Of Spirit and Spice
by brakken
Summary: My whack at a possible ending: When Naraku proposes a one-on-one duel to end the stalemate, everyone knows he's got something more up his sleeve. But that doesn't mean they're prepared for it. And when the strong are tricked, can the meek save the day?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Inuyasha. That honor belongs to Takahashi-san.

**Of Spirit and Spice  
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**Prologue: All the Difference**

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* * *

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Three years had passed, and still no end in sight.

Sure, the jewel was complete. Yes, Kouga-kun had moved on, from the quest for Kagura's death, and from her when he finally outwardly (she'd had a suspicion for some time now, from how easy it seemed for him, that it had been a ruse from the start) acknowledged her preference for a certain someone else. Huzzah, Kikyou had finally passed away peacefully too. Oh, whoop-de-doo, she'd managed to graduate high school despite her frequent absences.

But she wasn't going to college. Kikyou had died more or less in vain. Kouga had never gotten his revenge on Naraku. And now the Shikon no Tama rested in _his_ twisting tentacles.

She was 18, and she'd made no more headway romantically than she had when she'd started the quest. The shards had been collected—by their enemy—and Inuyasha, while he didn't mention Kikyou or Kouga, ever, still seemed to cling to the preconceptions he'd had while they were around: namely, that any affection towards her beyond friendship was a betrayal to the other miko, and that Kouga was just biding his time before swooping in to carry her off.

All in all, not a very productive three years in her book. Granted, three years ago staying alive this long in this situation would have seemed an accomplishment—but she wasn't the same girl that she was three years ago, now was she?

And that would make all the difference.

* * *

**A/N:** Yep, amazingly, the chapter fic still lives with me. I was reading an AU, like it loads, but the thing wasn't finished. So sad. So I decided to come up with my own little ending for it...which morphed into something entirely different somehow...and you see the result (or the beginnings of it) here. I know I advertised some other fics at the end of I'm Listening, but those other ones...well, they're taking time. I have a one-shot that will probably come out in a month (it's long), but other than that, I haven't had the time for much writing. A trying few months for me, you could say. And, most unfortunate of all (for me, anyway), it's going to get worse before it gets better...

Edit: Ha. Here I am posting this at the end of those 'trying months'. It's comical to think I thought I could post this before...Ah well. At least it means I'm ahead; I've just finished the last major edit on the third chapter of this particular story. I'll try to use my head start to update regularly (every week, every two weeks), but no promises, sorry. I'm not going to lie and pretend I'm not still busy as hell.

Ah well. Hope you'll like this.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Inuyasha. That honor belongs to Takahashi-san.

**Of Spirit and Spice**

**Chapter 1: Proposition**

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* * *

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"Oi, wench, the sun's been up for an hour now! Let's go!"

"Uhhnnn…..five more minutes…please…"she croaked, rolling onto her side, away from his voice.

Inuyasha was on the verge of rolling his eyes when a particularly unpleasant stench assailed his nose…_shit, not now_…he silently cursed.

"Look bitch, if you don't get your ass in gear and out of that stupid bag in five seconds, you'll be sleeping in youkai guts, and seeing how there's a drought—"

She was awake and stuffing her things away before he could blink, done and clambering onto his back just as he dazedly finished his sentence: "…I don't think you'll be getting a bath for a while…"

As he leaped away, he let out an inward sigh of relief. He wasn't a good liar, but three odd years of hanging around the bouzou seemed to have improved his skills enough to trick a sleepy Kagome into thinking something less than the truth--in this case, that it wasn't a particular demon they were avoiding.

For three weeks that infernal thing had been stalking them as they made their way back to the village from their last escapade up north. _I am getting so fucking tired of it, I just want it to end, and soon—but no, I'm not half that lucky, now am I?_

The monk's kazaana had gotten progressively worse, as per the stipulations of the curse, given that they still hadn't manage to kill _that fucking bastard_ after all this time, and he and Sango had sped ahead on Kirara to get him to Kaede's quickly, in hopes that rest might help delay the effects.

In the mean time, Inuyasha and Kagome were supposed to take a side trip to visit Jinenji to see if the hanyou had any medicine that could help. Unfortunately, that was when things went awry.

Four straight days of pouring rain with limited options for shelter had forced the pair to hole up in an abandoned hut. (As much as Inuyasha would have preferred to plow on, rain drenching him to the quick or not, the second he heard Kagome's sniffle he knew there was no choice in the matter. Not that he told her any of that.) The experience had been trying to say the least; as nice as it was to spend some time alone with his favorite shard-detector, being in such close quarters with no distractions or interruptions was just asking for something unintentional to happen. He knew if he'd relaxed, the barriers he'd so carefully maintained (despite her and his libido's best efforts to tear them down) would crumble too quickly and too seriously for any real repair, and then he'd really be in trouble.

The idea of being closer to Kagome wasn't unpleasant to him; far from it. But it was an impossibility as far as he was concerned, and just plain unproductive when he was supposed to be focused on killing _that cocksucking jackass_ before he figured out how to deal with her.

It was with those thoughts firmly in mind that he managed to wait out the storm (though they couldn't prevent a number of close calls nor unnecessary fights) and keep moving after with such alacrity as he now displayed, literally tearing through the tree tops.

Oops. He didn't really notice, his pain tolerance almost infinite, but all those twigs and leaves and brambles flying around thanks to his aggressive stride might be a tad painful to the girl on his back. _Shit…_he cursed again as he finally noticed the death grip her arms had on his shoulders.

He slowed down a bit; no need to rip the trees apart at this point, with the danger far enough behind he couldn't sense it anymore. And definitely no need to put Kagome in any further—discomfort, (he hoped that's all it was).

"Oi, you ok back there?" He didn't know what else to say.

"Yeah…now…thought I'd throw up for a moment there though," she breathed back at him; missing his wince, she continued: "Why were you going so fast? Is something wrong?"

There it was. The Question. He should have known she'd ask it. She asked it every time something was going on he didn't want her to know about. And every time he'd have to lie or change the subject or not say a word until she gave up.

And every time he asked himself why he did it, why he couldn't just be open and honest with her, like she was with him, and every time he came up with blanks, nothing better than _well, I am the asshole hanyou here_.

At least this time he had a bit of a choice…he could just keep with his previous lie, couldn't he? But she was awake now…but what else would he say? _'Byakuya's been following us for the past three weeks and it's not to give us some pretty paper cranes?_' Yeah—no. _Stick with the last one it is_.

"That youkai that crept up on us while we were asleep was faster than I thought, is all. It's ok though, I lost him." Thank the kami she couldn't see his face right now, or she'd know for sure—oh wait. She didn't need to see his face, now did she. Stupid girl, knowing him so well, using logic like she did…

"But…if it was just some minor youkai, why didn't you just get rid of it? Why did you…" she knew better than to say this to him, but similarly at a loss for options, she let it out anyway: "run?"

She steeled herself for the backlash. For some reason it never came though…why?

Because Byakuya had popped up not ten feet in front of them, and at Inuyasha's current speed, the stop was not an easy one.

Byakuya raised a fine eyebrow as he watched the hanyou and girl skid to a stop below him—_interesting how he instantly shifted her about, so that he'd take almost all of the force of the impact,_ he mused to himself—and waited for their return to make his proposition.

Finally, after a few curse-filled minutes of dragging himself out of his impact-dug trench, he leaped to a high enough branch to talk with the abomination that had nearly caused his broken neck—not to mention Kagome's.

Byakuya realized the volatility of the volcano in red glaring at him, and withheld all urges to comment on the dirt stuck in his hair and clothes, or that stray leaf caught in the girl's collar. He tried to make his bit brief; everyone, especially tempermental hanyou, are prone to kill the messenger.

"Naraku sends you his greetings, and deigned the sending of me to present a proposition he has."

Funny, Inuyasha hadn't tried to murder him yet. Well, no sense pushing his luck—he continued: "It has come to his attention that we are all at a stalemate of sorts. He supposes that you find it as frustrating as he does."

Now he knew why they remained silent (excepting Inuyasha's guttural growl, of course). Shock did that to people, and it was clearly writ on their faces at this point. Why they were shocked—_what else am I for, except to dispense tidbits to them or spy on them?_—was a mystery to him, but it hardly mattered.

On he went with the message. "He cannot kill you, for whatever reason, and you cannot kill him. Hence the draw—"

An interruption. Finally, he was starting to worry they'd damaged their vocal chords in the fall and he'd have to record their images instead of their voices for confirmation. Good to know he didn't have to go the trouble of all that extra work.

"He has the fucking jewel, doesn't he? What more does that bastard need?!"

Another surprise to keep in mind. Inuyasha did have a brain after all. Now, if he had one of normal size he might pick up on the lie Byakuya was about to feed him, but that was beside the point. Inuyasha had actually picked up on half the reason for Naraku's action—that the Shikon no Tama was worthless to him while such a powerful pure force as Kagome was still near enough to keep it from corrupting completely. Shocking, that the impulsive brute had seen so clearly—but no matter. _I'm gifted enough with illusion to cloud his sight without too much trouble…_

"As you may have noticed, he does not yet have your heads on a platter. That is, I believe, 'what else he needs'. The Shikon no Tama gives him great power, but as of yet, it has not quite given him enough to kill you all, only defeat you. May I continue with the message? I'm almost done after all…" He almost drawled his response, his speech slid into the air so smoothly.

"Keh, fine, tell us whatever else the fucker's been thinking about…" Inuyasha growled, trying to look offhand; his straining ears belied his crossed arms too well though.

Byakuya hid a smirk at the petulant image, and followed his 'orders'. "Naraku has deemed that the only way to resolve this stalemate is in a duel to the death, no third parties allowed," he finished as he gazed off to the side, already bored with the stunned and speechless humans.

"W-what?! He-he's willing to fucking duel, now? After three years of cat and mouse? No third parties—keh! As if I believe any of that shit for a second! What is he really planning Byakuya!" Inuyasha spluttered, eyes flaring, fangs flashing.

"He is serious, actually, and I think it's the three years of 'cat and mouse,' as you put it, that are the reason. He's as tired of it all as you are. He wants you dead, and he thinks this is the only way he has a chance at it," Byakuya slid his eyes back to the hanyou, but kept his ears firmly on the miko. He didn't expect her to say anything, but her silence could be as important in Inuyasha's decision as her words…

"However, it is also your last and only chance to get rid of him. He will not make himself available again, should you decline. So, the question: are you interested?"

Inuyasha glared at him for a moment, suspicious, but, unable to find a flaw in the reasoning (or any legitimate arguments against his interest,) he finally turned to Kagome for her input.

The girl stood quiet and uneasy, shifting back and forth, biting her lip, darting a glance at the other demon, then sending a long, meaningful one at Inuyasha. Slowly, hesitantly, she nodded her head.

Inuyasha watched her closely, saw the sincerity in her eyes, and whipped his gaze back to the waiting (and miraculously alive) messenger.

"Yes."

With a small smirk teasing the corners of his lips, the demon flew off, fingering a single shocking green crane.

"Inuyasha…do you…think we made the right choice? Do you really think this will work?" Kagome asked softly, her eyes still trailing the retreating youkai.

"Keh. No. But it was the only one left, wasn't it," Inuyasha grunted as his eyes surreptitiously traced her form, an inscrutable look on his face.

_But at least this way, _you_ won't get hurt in the crossfire…_he silently vowed.

* * *

"So…How did they take the message, Byakuya?" The words dripped sickly pleased anticipation.

"They appeared caught-off guard, but accepted soon enough. Here, listen." Byakuya, with only the faintest wince, tore off his ear and handed it to the shadow lounging on the silk pillow of a dead daimyou.

"Hmmm…Interesting. The girl said nothing? Not a word?"

_Is he…disappointed by that?_ Byakuya couldn't help but wonder at the odd tone of his master's voice. He quickly squashed the 'rebellious' question; you never knew when your thoughts were being probed; and answered swiftly.

"No, she did not."

"So Inuyasha made the decision entirely by himself? That's more interesting yet."

Whatever quality had piqued his curiosity was gone now, to Byakuya's relief. Now he had another decision to make: tell Naraku about her nod, or leave it unsaid? Whichever he could get away with, of course. And today was his lucky day.

"Perhaps they have had a bit of a falling out…Or, better yet, this may have caused one. A fortuitous event, all told. Proceed with the next phase of our plans…"

Byakuya bowed, grinning to himself. To think, he'd withheld information on the miko and gotten away with it!—

"Oh…and this time…record it with your eyes as well as your ears. I wouldn't want to have some error because you had missed something as simple as a gesture, a shake or nod of the head, for example…"

* * *

"How is he, Kaede-sama? How long…" She couldn't finish her question.

The old miko took pity on her, and didn't answer the second question. "He is resting peacefully now. If you would like to visit him, go ahead."

"A-arigatou, Kaede-sama," Sango breathed as she ducked past the door mat.

"Poor girl…Both so young, too…" Kaede murmured to herself as she walked away.

* * *

He drifted in a dark place, a safe place. The pain had faded to a memory, and his exhausted body welcomed the sweet oblivion of sleep with open arms.

He didn't know how many more hours of rest he had left before the eternal one, but he'd enjoy this as long as he could.

* * *

"So…on to Jinenji's again, then?" Kagome whispered when the silence lasted too long.

"Huh? Oh yeah. Yeah, let's…let's go…"

Kagome watched him worriedly as he absentmindedly crouched. She got on, and they were off as usual, but something was bothering him, she could tell. Did she dare to ask the Question again?

The silence grew and pulled and pushed for hours before she finally gave in.

"Inuyasha, what's wrong?" Her voice was loud enough for him to hear, but no more.

"Keh, nothing's wrong wench," he responded automatically. Where had the time gone? Hadn't he just started carrying her? Why was she asking that, all of a sudden?

"Yes. It. Is! You're driving me crazy with worry, you know that! You've been brooding over something for weeks now, and it's only gotten worse today. You can't really expect me to not notice when you won't look or talk to me for hours at a time! What, did I say something? Do something? Spit it out!"

_Shit, she really means it this time, doesn't she? What the hell am I supposed to say to all of that…_I_ hardly fucking know what's bothering me! Sure as hell could I explain it to her!_

But that wasn't true, and he knew it wasn't. He often solved these mental quandaries with her help; if anything, she could probably help him figure it all out better and quicker than he could on his own.

But he knew that she was the root of his brooding, and if she knew…if she knew why, or how much of an effect her presence had…Now was not the time for that conversation.

He opened his mouth, ready to spit out some general evasion, but she spoke first.

"Is it…is it that you're missing Kikyou? I understand if you are…I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell at you like that…" Her voice, instead of insistent and strong, quavered with withheld tears. He winced at the sound—but more at the words.

"Kagome…dammit, no, that's not what it is at all…you've got it all wrong…" he flubbed.

"Then what is it, Inuyasha?" she asked, a bit louder, but shakier; his fists tightened, his claws drawing blood at the scent of salt.

"W-what is it that's really b-b-bothering you? Why w-won't you tell me? If it's n-not K-kikyou, then…why d-don't you trust me to know?"

"Fuck, Kagome, I _do_ trust you, it's just that—" he pleaded his case, not knowing what he'd say next but desperate to stop her tears.

He never got the chance though. They'd finally arrived.

* * *

He blinked, slowly. The darkness seeped away, burned away by light, color, a lovely female face framed by familiar wood walls…

"Houshi-sama? Can you hear me? It's me, Sango; we're in Kaede's hut—" She froze as she felt a familiar hand in an unfamiliar place.

"Oh Kami-sama…you're really in trouble, aren't you?" she breathed, gripping his feeble fingers. To think that he had reached for her hand, rather than her butt…

"Don't t-trouble yourself, Sango-sama," the monk whispered, his lips curving in a charming half-smile. "This poor monk will be fine in a few days at most."

"Don't lie to me, Houshi-sama. You've been out for days. I know—we all know—your kazaana will k-kill you soon. Don't…don't pretend like it's not going to happen."

He was startled at the emotion quivering in her voice. He always was; she was such a rock the rest of the time, he easily forgot that she did care, and deeply. Normally, the thought would have warmed him to his core. Right now, the sensation was more than a little bittersweet…

"I didn't mean it like that Sango…I'm not trying to pretend…anything that isn't true. My father lied to me right before he died; I'm not going to make anyone else go through that particular nightmare. I just meant that—"

"Well isn't this a touching reunion. Pardon me for interrupting, but I have a message for the both of you," a sly, clever voice slipped in.

* * *

"Inuyasha-sama, Kagome-sama. What brings you here?" a slow, placid voice carried to the quarreling couple, cutting off their argument.

With a huff, the girl dismounted and strolled over to the large uma-hanyou, and promptly began to chatter as if nothing had been bothering her at all.

Inuyasha just stood there a moment, trying to figure out some way, any way, he could have dealt with her question better. He came up blank, as usual. With a disgruntled sigh, he stalked after the pair, keeping an ear out for bitter villagers and their ilk.

Satisfied that the area was secure, he caught up with Kagome and Jinenji in time to catch the tail end of the conversation.

"—an antidote, or maybe just a pain-reliever? We'd take almost anything at this point, it's gotten so bad," Kagome explained to the thoughtful hanyou.

A silence descended for a time as he obviously considered various possibilities.

A typically impatient Inuyasha decided to ditch them in favor of observing from a nearby tree. He didn't like to let his guard down ever, but even more after his abysmal lapse that morning. If Byakuya had been sent out to fight, rather than talk…shit, he didn't even want to think about it.

With a quick leap and bound, he was lounging in a nearby tree, harmless and lazy to any eye, taut as a bowstring to the touch. Baggy fire-rat robes came in handy so often he lost count.

Finally settled, he let his eyes drift half-shut, focusing on his ears and nose. He didn't mean to nap, but all the worry and tension of the past few weeks caught up with him in a rush, and he was so comfortable, and off he fluttered into snoozeland...

A pity he couldn't escape his what-if fearful thoughts in his dreams.

* * *

Sango turned, hands fisted, muscles taut, focused on the intruder. How had they missed him…?

Byakuya held up a hasty hand to stop her. "Hold on, I mean no harm, honestly! I am merely the purveyor of Naraku's words, nothing more. There is no need for violence, I think we can all agree," he spoke quickly, deliberately and obviously shifting his gaze to the incapacitated monk.

"He's right, Sango. Let him speak," Miroku grunted, forcing himself into a sitting position. It hurt like hell, but his pride would hurt more otherwise.

Sango, seeing his discomfort despite his efforts to hide it, rushed to his side, supporting him firmly, but not so much as to insult him. "Fine," she ground out. "What do you have to say, Byakuya?"

"Not much, so don't worry about me keeping you long. Naraku simply wished for me to present a certain proposition of his…"

* * *

"You can't think of anything?" Kagome repeated, slowly, eyes huge with disbelief.

"There isn't an antidote for any curse other than the breaking of it. I can give you things to ease his pain, but nothing else…I am sorry, Kagome-sama. It is the best I can do," the forlorn giant murmured, eyes large with disappointment in himself for his failure.

The girl saw his reaction, and felt guilty. It wasn't his fault after all…

"It's alright, Jinenji-san," Kagome reassured him with a pat to his arm. "I know it's not your fault. We'll just have to break that curse ourselves, and soon. In the meantime though, how fast do you think you could make that pain-easing medicine? It would be a great help to us."

"Of course, Kagome-sama. I can have some ready by tomorrow," the hanyou eagerly answered, glad to help in some way.

Kagome smiled a little as he immediately bustled off to collect the herbs. Some people were just too nice for their own good…

* * *

"Alright. I may be old, but I am no fool. Something has transpired since I last visited you two. What is it?"

Sango's lips pursed even more, if that was possible.

With a despairing flick of his eyes, Miroku ascertained that he'd have to answer by himself. He took a moment to sip his stew, breathe deeply, then let it out.

"Byakuya was here, with a message from Naraku. It seems that he is as frustrated with our stalemate as we are. To solve the predicament, he has—"

"Set up a trap, as usual! I can't believe you accepted, Houshi-sama!" Sango interrupted.

"Oh? But he surely did not say that. Please, tell me exactly what he said," Kaede stated clearly and calmly, a single eyebrow raised, but at Sango's outburst or the new development with Naraku, neither Miroku nor Sango knew.

Still, it was enough to quiet Sango's tongue while Miroku recited the message as best he could.

"So," Kaede began when he'd finished. "It seems that you had no choice in the matter; either accept and have a chance at defeating Naraku, or refuse and condemn yourselves to spending the rest of your lives searching for him as you are now."

"Exactly, Kaede-sama. How could I not accept?" Miroku quietly agreed, eyes pleading with Sango to understand as well.

"But it seems that you disagree, Sango. I would not deny that this is probably a trap; but what makes you think this will be the trap that kills you when no others have?"

"Because he's desperate. Before, he was just playing with us. He'd increase the danger a bit, and we'd scrape through by our fingernails, but still alive. It got him angry. Now, he's willing to go all out to kill us, because he's finally realized that's the only way that will work. And now that he has the entire jewel, him going all out _will_ kill us, for sure! There is no chance of winning this way!"

Sango gesticulated harshly as she spoke, the fire gleaming in her eyes. She was sure of her words; that was certain. Kaede didn't know what to say to her, for all that she disagreed.

Miroku finally broke the silence that Sango's words had left.

"My death, as you already know, is a foregone conclusion. At least this way, I have a chance of taking that bastard with me first."

* * *

**A/N:** Never underestimate the time it takes to write the beginning of a story. Or read it, for that matter...I hope all this plot set-up didn't feel too long. It's necessary, but it's also necessary to not bore the readers. You know, seeing as this isn't a textbook. Or the Fellowship of the Ring. I promise to not spend the first hundred pages talking about hobbits and birthday parties. You have my word.

The first fifty pages on the other hand...kidding! Seriously though, there are places where this plot won't change in obvious ways, but I will do my very best to keep the subtleties interesting.

Hope you liked it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Inuyasha. That honor belongs to Takahashi-san.

**Of Spirit and Spice**

**Chapter 2: Anticipation**

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"So, Inuyasha…you dare to sleep, only days before our final confrontation? What's more, you dare to sleep separated from the girl?"

The voice was naught but a murmur, but it carried far in the dark of the chamber.

The lips it issued from curved in a small smile, a chuckle.

"Kukukuku…you will regret it, soon enough."

* * *

Byakuya rolled his eyes as he sped through the cool night air on his crane, another, bright green, peeking out from his robes. _First the infatuation with that dead miko, and obsession over the hanyou…what next? An infatuation with the other miko? It wouldn't surprise me…_he muttered to himself, put out with his most recent orders.

_I am not a kidnapper! I work in illusions, I'm a spy; how does he expect me to do this right? The hanyou's sure to notice me! 'Weave him a dream trap' indeed. There's nothing that would engross him that much that I could come up with on my own. Illusions are based on imitating and altering reality, not creating new ones!—_

**Byakuya…what rebellious thoughts do you harbor now? Do you dare question my orders?** a low, quiet voice interposed itself on his thoughts.

He cut them off with a gulp. He hadn't realized how far he'd pushed it—would this be enough to off him finally? He collected himself, and started the necessary groveling.

"Naraku-sama, no, of course not, I am on my way to carry them out this very moment! Forgive my cowardly thoughts, but know that they would not have dissuaded me from acting according to your will," Byakuya answered quickly, though he kept the fear out of his voice well.

**Of course not…because you know your death at my hands is much likelier than that at Inuyasha's. Make sure to remember that in the future. Idle thoughts lead to stupid, disobedient thoughts…and you know what I do to those who disobey me…**

Slowly the presence faded away. Byakuya released the breath he'd been holding in a whoosh of relief.

He collected his thoughts, kept them under check, focused on the task ahead.

He was near his victims now…he needed all the focus he had to accomplish this.

* * *

_Inuyasha bounded through the trees, the wind whipping through his hair, a warm and soft Kagome pressing into his back. Things were as they should be. He dared to smile a little, and tightened his grip on the girl's thighs, chuckling at her squeal of surprise and delight._

_He closed his eyes, just enjoying the warmth of the morning sun hitting them, and took a deep breath…_

_And smelled nothing. _

_No animals. No plants. No Kagome, no him. Nothing._

_He tried to open his eyes. It didn't work._

_Try as he might, his lids seemed nailed shut. He was blind to the world._

_He stopped moving—if he couldn't see or smell, he could easily crash into something, easily harm the girl on his back—but wait—he couldn't feel her any more._

"_Kagome?" he barked out, surprised and not a little scared._

_Silence._

"_Kagome!"_

"_Inu—" a desperate voice cried, but above or below, he couldn't tell. Then came a _thump_. _

"_Kagome! Teme, answer me! What the hell is going on?!"_

"_I doubt you'd like to know," a condescending, smooth voice replied; it seemed detached, but an undercurrent of malicious delight weaved through the words, and Inuyasha couldn't fail to notice it. His fury and fear grew._

"_Who the fuck are you?! Let me see your goddamn face! Tell me what just happened! If you've so much as touched her—"_

"_I did not need to touch her. Only my katana."_

* * *

"Why's Sango so angry right now? I mean, more than usual?"

Miroku sighed, debating whether this was worth the effort of putting down his bowl of breakfast and shifting about his still weak body on the tatami mats and explaining the mind of a female to that of a young male or not. It wasn't really a hard choice.

Still, Shippou persisted, scampering in front of the monk to stare at him all the more insistently, tail swishing with impatience, lower lip large in a pout.

Miroku raised an eyebrow, setting down his bowl for the moment. "An interesting expression you have there," he admitted, but finished: "but it won't make me answer that question. Ask Sango-sama herself if you're so curious."

He had just reached for his bowl again when the kitsune had the bright idea of jumping between him and his food.

"Did you flirt with the village girls again?" he asked in an accusatory whisper.

"No," Miroku tiredly replied, stretching around the kit for his sustenance, much-needed to regain the strength he'd need to fight a few days from now—only to have his hand batted away by the fierce guard-dog of a fox.

"Shippou…"he threatened, his attitude less congenial now. His hand had just stopped throbbing only a few hours ago, settling to a dull ache—but that aggressive little paw of Shippou's had successfully set it on fire all over again. Couple that with the interruption in feeding himself, and he was not a pleased bouzou.

The kitsune had yet to realize his mistake, and stubbornly held his ground. "She's really, really angry. I think she'd hurt you if you weren't so hurt already. And not like she usually does—I think she'd knock you out for a week, if she could," he stated, quickly and intently.

The monk absently drew back his hand, rubbing it a little to ease the sharp pain pulsing through it, but he focused on Shippou's words. He listened, and forgot about his food.

"How…how did you come by this information?" he carefully asked.

Shippou looked surprised. "Isn't it obvious? It only takes one look at her face. Her eyes could burn down the forest if she's not careful."

Miroku closed his eyes, tired once again. "It is to some. As for why she is so…angry with me…that is not something you need to know right now."

Shippou looked frustrated, and opened his mouth to protest: "But—!"

"But nothing," Miroku interrupted, eyes opened and hard with meaning. "It is none of your business. If Sango-sama wishes to tell you, she may, but I have no obligation to and firmly choose not to."

"But—!"

"And Shippou? Don't bother her about it, either. Or I will be forced to punish you myself."

And so Shippou, annoyed and only grudgingly obedient, left Miroku to sip his stew alone, only thoughts of dilemmas and decisions and their unintended consequences to stir the gray silence.

* * *

Byakuya thanked the kami five times over when he arrived at his destination. He nearly undid his concealment with his mindless relief at sighting the hanyou napping restlessly in a tree—clearly, dreaming, but not about anything pleasant.

His gratitude to the gods only increased when he probed into the dreams Inuyasha suffered through; he could never have made such effective nightmares himself, but with foundations like those…he could keep the hanyou busy for the rest of the night, if he wanted to.

A tweak here…a bit more detail there…the all important change to the ending to make it continue indefinitely, and the illusion was set.

Inuyasha's normal, if unpleasant, nightmare morphed into a never-ending spiral of helplessness and loss and fear and self-disgust…

* * *

"_What the fuck is that supposed to mean, you filthy bastard?! If you've hurt her—!"_

—_A shift, almost imperceptible, but telling nonetheless, like the smallest pebble dropped in a large pond, whose ripples spread across the entire surface: thin, subtle, but undeniable—_

"_Why don't you open your eyes and look for yourself?" the voice taunted again._

_He did not notice the change, too focused on the voice, the situation, the circumstances…he did not know he was dreaming, so he could not know the dream was tampered with._

"_Because I can't, idiot—" he started; then paused when his sense of smell flooded back to him._

_Eagerly, he breathed, desperate to ascertain Kagome's condition; was she hurt, injured, dead—though he dared not think the words, he sniffed for their meanings._

_And came up with terror, pain, depression, despair, all hers, tearing at his core._

_Without thinking, his eyes shot open, he leaped forward; "Kagome!" his startled, anguished cry._

_The voice snickered. His eyes might have been open, but he saw nothing save dark trees and dirt._

"_Behind you, baka," it prompted him, still chuckling._

_He whirled around, angry, but no room left in his mind for a rejoinder, only Kagome—_

_She was in _his_ arms, body limp, head falling back, skin pale, eyes wide and staring…_

_He didn't even see who it was that held her. He didn't care. He slashed and clawed, mindless of anything save not hitting her, and somehow she ended up in his arms instead._

_She was cold. Still. Barely breathing. _

_Her eyes slowly turned to him, her blood-blackened lips cracked apart, and in a husky dry whisper, she moaned his name. And the word: "Why?"_

_The voice answered. Apparently he hadn't killed the bastard, after all._

"_Because he is weak. Because he was blind to me, did not even notice my approach. Because it took him till a moment ago to even know where you were. Because he could not protect you._

"_Because he is a weak, filthy, hanyou. _

"_Because you are a fool, and trust him._

"_Because…"_

_The voice continued, each sentence dropping another stone into Inuyasha's gullet, digging another dagger into his side…and he was too weak to stop it._

* * *

This was almost too easy.

The hanyou was so wrapped up in his misery he wouldn't have noticed if he'd raped the girl, let her scream, then murdered her in the noisiest way possible—let alone simply stolen her away in the night.

The thought wasn't quite enough to make him quit his stealthy and silent method of approaching the hut where she slept though.

Not quite…but almost.

* * *

"Kaede? What's going on between Miroku and Sango? They're acting so weird right now…"

"It is none of your business, child," she tiredly responded, leaning down to pick up a mushroom that had fallen out of the basket Shippou perched on. She knew it wouldn't be enough to dissuade that red-haired ball-of-curiosity though.

"That's what Miroku said. And he said not to bother Sango either. So I came to ask you. I'm not bothering them, so why does it matter?" he insisted, agitated enough to knock out a few more herbs.

She raised an eyebrow. "If you stop doing that and truly help me as you said you would an hour ago, maybe I will tell you," she answered tartly.

The kit blushed in shame, whispered "Oops…," and hopped out of the basket to pick up the debris of his enthusiasm.

They hiked for a few more minutes, Shippou trying his best to help and not hinder, working to earn back her favor, before the old miko relented.

"All right. These old bones are tired, but this meadow is full of useful plants. I will rest while you collect them. If you keep working while I speak, I will tell you what I know of the current state of affairs between the monk and tajiya—but only as much as I think you have a right to know. Understood?"

"Yes ma'm!" the boy eagerly saluted, and scampered about, eyes locked on his task, but ears strained on her gravelly tones.

* * *

Miroku collected his things in silence.

Alone, he stood just inside the door flap of Kaede's hut. He was finally recovered enough (in his opinion, not Kaede's) to embark on this final mission of his. He took his preparation with an air of seriousness that clashed strikingly with his typical behavior.

But charm was of little importance to him now. Now, all came down to his mission, and its success. It was his last shot, after all…

He cut that thought off. He could not dwell on anything that might suggest failure; and in this case that translated to anything regarding the future… Instead, he focused on the practicalities of the present.

Straw sandals…check. Fresh kosode…check. Cleaned robes…check. Shakujou…check. A wealth of sutras, running the gamut of uses from food-buyers to demon-slayers……check.

Speaking of demon slayers…it seemed the lovely tajiya would not be accompanying him, angry as she was with his decision.

Didn't she see that this was his last chance? Didn't she see that this was _her_ last chance? Didn't she understand that the worst way he could die would be on a pallet, leaving her to face the problems he couldn't? He had to do this. It was the only way he could die in some measure of peace. Even if he didn't succeed, at least this way he could have done something…

But he stopped his thoughts again. Every time his mind strayed, his movements slowed. And he couldn't afford that, could he? So he severed ties to thoughts of all else but that moment, and himself.

It was like the old days, before he ever met a pretty girl in odd clothes and her possessive, aggressive hanyou and the loud-mouthed kitsune that traveled with them. Before he ever met an old miko living in a small village with an odd well.

Before he ever met a strong, fierce, beautiful woman with the power to capture him and tie him to her…

No. That was the past. He could not think on it. Nor could he think on his future.

Only the present, and the road outside the flap of a doorway.

He tucked the cloth bundle of food and sutras in his robes, and exited the hut.

He left without saying goodbye.

* * *

"I believe it started quite a while ago…

"But Sango cares very much for Miroku, and he for her; and that is the root of the problem." Kaede stated as she contemplated the roots lying in her basket, alone—but only for the moment—much like problems...

"Huh? Isn't that a good thing? Doesn't that mean Miroku will finally stop chasing all those other girls and getting Sango angry at him and and and—" Shippou asked, popping up from some thick bushes, laden with the useful bark.

Kaede shook her head. "No, it is about that no longer, or so I think. The problem is much deeper than Houshi-sama's fondness for females in general. It has much to do with his curse and Naraku though," was her quelling answer as he deposited his load and scampered off for more.

Shippou, waist deep in pungent plants, such that he had to plug his nose, opened his mouth to form a small, round 'o'. That is, before he started jabbering again, his tone especially nasally thanks to the pinched nostrils.

"But what does that mean?? I mean, I know his hand is getting worse and Sango is worried about him pushing himself, but Miroku doesn't want her worrying about him because he doesn't want her to get hurt but that doesn't make any sense—"

Kaede chuckled a little. "Calm yourself, Shippou. You are very close to understanding already.

"The truth of the matter is: if Sango is distracted in a battle because she is worrying about Miroku, she will get hurt. And if Miroku is weak and cannot fight in general, her likelihood of getting hurt goes up as well, because she will have to fight more to make up for his missing presence. Overall, no matter if she thinks on him or not, she is hurt by his weakness," Kaede explained, a somber cast coming over her previously mirthful face. It seemed even Shippou's exuberance couldn't keep her amused for long.

"But…" Shippou bit his lip, absently shifting from foot to foot as he thought it all through; it just didn't add up… "But doesn't Miroku getting weaker affect everybody, not just Sango?"

Kaede sighed. "Yes and no. It does in general, but it seems to me that the problem of Sango's worry over his state is much more pressing to his mind—and that certainly weighs on her more than the others. She's lost too many loved ones before; I doubt she's willing to lose another."

"Oh…Yeah, and she is pretty worried…But what does this have to do with how it is now? All that's been happening for forever, and it never got this bad!" Shippou shot back around the pile of roots in his arms.

"Be careful with those…" Kaede cautioned as he dumped them in the basket. Satisfied that he'd collected enough for the day, she motioned him to sit; eagerly he did.

"The problem now is that it seems Naraku has designed some new trap, and Miroku is going to face it—and him—alone. He sees it as his last chance to win against the fiend; and if he does not, at least he will have died trying to protect those he loves."

"But Sango doesn't want him to do it, because she's scared he'll die?" Shippou looked up at her, eyes large with worry.

"Exactly," was her tired sigh.

A long pause fell between them.

"But he won't. She's just worrying for nothing," Shippou concluded suddenly, and dashed off before Kaede could convince him otherwise.

She sighed, long and low, then creaked to her feat, herbs in tow.

She murmured as she slowly walked back: "I hope you are right, Shippou.

"I hope you are right."

* * *

Kagome woke groggily to an almost sub-sonic growl—and an uneasy feeling besides.

In her sleepy state, she didn't question the compulsion she had to leave the hut and investigate. So, slowly and quietly, so as to not disturb Jinenji, she rose to her feet and exited the hut.

She looked around a bit. Where was Inuyasha? Something told her to try a large tree a little to the east.

Its limbs were in shadow, but she could just make out a glimmer of silver in the moonlight; she walked toward it without a thought.

As she neared, she noticed how he seemed to twitch and writhe a bit in his sleep; was he having a bad dream?

"Kagome! Fuck, no, I didn't, I…" he gasped out, eyes still firmly shut. She jumped at least a foot in the air.

Finally collecting herself, she opened her mouth to call out and wake him from his nightmare—but smooth silk stopped her.

"I'm afraid you're not allowed to wake him up, girl. I need him asleep to accomplish my goal," a low voice whispered in her ear, in tones as suave as the silk he'd stuffed in her mouth.

Angry, she fought to see her captor—and, catching him by surprise, she managed to turn in his grasp enough to see his face.

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise; she could not see his face for the blackness that hovered there; then they furrowed in renewed anger. She might not have her bow, but she wasn't going to just stand here, was she?

But even as she called on her powers to purify her shadow-hidden assailant, the inky mask he wore melted to congeal around _her_ eyes, _her_ ears, her nose…and, unable to see, hear, scream, or breathe, she fell unconscious.

* * *

Sango watched, livid but helpless, as the purple figure strode purposefully below her.

She had caved in and decided to come with him anyway—but was much too proud to admit it, of course.

So she followed.

She stalked through the trees on the sides of the road—or, if there were no trees, like today, she rode Kirara a few meters back, hoping he'd never think to look her way.

So far he'd never looked behind him though…and that somehow depressed her as well.

Didn't he see that this would be the end for her? Didn't he see that this would be the end for him? Didn't he understand that the worst way he could die would be in this absurd facsimile of seppuku, and that she would die as soon as he did? She had to prevent that. It was the only way she could keep her sanity. Even if she didn't succeed, at least this way she could have done something…

She shook her head; Kirara growled, worried about her.

"It's fine Kirara…I'll be alright…" she reassured her friend, patting her strong flank.

The cat understood, and looked away.

But her ears were keen, and they twitched as they caught the sadness in her mistress' tone as she added in a whisper:

"…but only if he is…"

* * *

Kagome did not wake again until her face met cold, hard stone.

She blinked a little, sat up, coming to her senses gradually, trying to remember how she had ended up here of all places…

It was a cave. A dark, wet, deep cave. The little light she had to see by came from a strange formation ahead, that tugged at her memory; but she ignored it for the moment in favor of assessing more important things, like her overall health. Her body seemed disheveled and a little scraped here and there, but otherwise all right. She still didn't remember how she'd gotten here though…she looked around, and gasped as she recognized the crystalline forms ahead.

Naraku watched her from a few feet away. As of yet, she hadn't noticed his presence. But soon…

"Kyaaa! Naraku! What are you doing here!" she exclaimed, eyes large and wide as she whirled around to face him, still seated, her miko senses finally noticing his dark aura.

Shakily, she got to her feet, her fear replaced by anger. "And what am_ I_ doing here! What did you do, kidnap me or something?!"

Fierce, proud indignation laced her tone and scent and every curve of her frame; he lapped it up hungrily.

Taking his time, he slid forward a little across the damp, rough cave floor. He grinned a little when she held her ground. Excellent…

"In a way, yes. Though it was Byakuya that actually carried out the task," he answered slowly, gesturing at something—or someone—behind her.

She whipped around, surprised she'd missed his youki too—but there he was, looking bored but attentive as he leaned against the other wall, arms folded, the bright green noticeably absent—though she hardly had time to think on it.

She backed up a bit, turning so that she could watch both at once—unintentionally putting the light to her back as well.

"You never answered my question! What am I doing here, and how in the name of every sacred kami in all the worlds did you manage to enter _this _cave!?"

Naraku chuckled a bit, pleased with her fire, and the quickness of her mind. "You wonder how such corrupt youkai such as Byakuya and I could be allowed entrance to a sacred chamber such as this, no?" he easily answered back, sweeping a baboon pelt-covered arm to encompass the entire cavern.

She gulped a little. How…?

"I'll tell you," he smirked, his arm finally resting at his side. "Even Midoriko's spirit cannot compete with her own creation, when it has been corrupted fully and listens no more to her."

With a larger grin, he shifted forward, so that the pink light hit the blackened jewel resting at his throat.

It was a sickly combination; the jewel seemed to almost suck in the light…she shuddered instinctively.

"It does not please you, to see it in this form, does it?" he laughed at her.

She could only shake her head no, her mind spinning around screaming somewhere a few feet above her head.

With effort, she collected herself, and calmed her mind. Her voice steely, she asked: "So. What do you plan to do with me now? You showed me you can enter Midoriko's cave. So what. It's to be expected, after all. It's not like we didn't know you had the jewel anyway. I don't see why you thought bringing me here would prove your power in any way—"

_It's amazing how fast someone can backhand you when they were at least ten feet away a minute before…_her mind mused, before she crumpled to the floor and passed out.

* * *

"Naraku-sama…what now?" the real Byakuya murmured as he watched the illusions he'd created collect the girl's body and leave the cave.

The image in the liquid was fuzzy, thanks to the powers of Midoriko's spirit still guarding her burial chamber, but he could make out enough to see that the young miko had been knocked unconscious by the blow.

Naraku raised an eyebrow at the attendant so dangerously testing his limits. Byakuya was leaning over the spelled urn of liquid depicting the scene…and dangerously close, at that.

The liquid in question was his own miasma; hence the connection with the eyes of Byakuya's constructs. It only took a moment for him to shove the less-than-perfectly-subservient-incarnation into the urn, face-first.

He watched with slight amusement but general boredom as the youkai struggled to right himself as quickly as possible. The shouki was painful to his creation, though it wouldn't inflict any permanent damage on him.

Once the man had extracted himself and spat out the majority of the wretched stuff, Naraku deigned to answer his question.

"Firstly, should you forget your place and ask questions like that of me again, you will stay in my shouki for a week, rather than a moment."

He waited to see that Byakuya understood; satisfied with the deep nod and bow, he continued.

"Secondly, as to your question…you do not need to know all that will happen, but know this: the hanyou, when he awakes, will rage and attempt to track her down so that he can kill you."

Naraku paused lazily, taking enjoyment from the fear and dread that spiked from his incarnation's form.

Turning away, he added: "so I will send you with a message detailing where he will meet me to resolve our differences, as per the proposition you communicated to him yesterday."

Byakuya knew better than to push his luck twice in one meeting, and kept his protests to himself; but the large lump that formed in his throat at the reception he'd get from that message could not be denied.

Naraku chuckled, well aware of the predicament his messenger was in.

"He will probably try to assault you, it is true. However, if you intimate to him quickly enough that it is I that have the girl in my keeping, and that she is still alive, I doubt he will kill you. He will care for your information too much.

"So go!" he shouted suddenly. And Byakuya knew better than to argue; he left like the wind.

The shout rang in the stillness of the fortress for a while. After it passed, Naraku returned to the urn, still intact despite its abuse.

The image had finally reformed. It was a close up of the girl now, as the constructs carried her back here, to him…

A few light scrapes adorned her cheeks, and added a rich red contrast to her otherwise pale skin. Her mouth was slightly parted, her eyes closed and still behind their lids, a few locks of dark hair brushing her forehead, disheveled, but all the same…

He watched for some time as she lay limp in the arms of the illusion of himself.

Finally, he spoke, though his words were so soft, he probably didn't even hear them.

"And in the meantime…I will wait in eager anticipation."

* * *

**A/N:** It was a bit confusing at the end here, but I didn't want to give too much away. I guess what I'm trying to say is: if you're not all that sure what just happened, it's ok. It will be explained later, or, if you happen to be impatient (like my little sister; it's nothing to be ashamed of), I can explain it on request.

My apologies for the late posting. It was not my fault. Seriously, it was not. FFnet hasn't been letting me do anything with my account since Sunday, when I spent most of the day _trying_ to post this... And I know of at least three other people similarly affected, so please believe me. I beseech you! I'm in an odd mood, if you can't tell. All the tangent planes are getting to me...but yes. Couldn't post until just now. Hence the lateness. Sorry. Still not my fault though...*grumbles*...

Anyway. Hope you liked it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Inuyasha. That honor belongs to Takahashi-san.

**Of Spirit and Spice**

**Chapter 3: Meditation**

The dawn was not a pleasant one.

Clouds had gathered swiftly in the wee gray hours of the morning, clumped and thickened and congealed, and at sunrise upended their contents on the world in a dump of malicious glee. _No sun, no light, no warmth for you!_ they seemed to cackle.

The water was not 'renewing.' It was not 'rejuvenating.' It was not 'refreshing.'

It was cold and hard and gray and woke you up like an icy wet slap to the face.

Naraku relished the pitter patter from within his fortress.

Inuyasha, Miroku, Sango, Kaede, Shippou, Byakuya…even Kagome cursed the pounding to hell and back.

This was going to be a long day.

* * *

"Uhhnn…what a damn nightmare…"

"Heh, I'll say…Some of my best work yet. Had you trapped better than Naraku himself could manage."

It took a moment for Byakuya to realize what he'd just said, and to whom.

"Oh, well, maybe not that well—but really, forget the whole thing—no need to get hasty with your claws, you know—" he stammered as he skittered away from the now-wide-awake-and-hopping-mad hanyou.

He would have been skewered for sure—him and his big mouth, damn the thing—if it hadn't rained quite so much already. But as it was, when Inuyasha shot to his feet so quickly, he lost his grip for a second—and on the wet, slippery branch (_damn me for going soft and choosing the mossy one to rest on!)_ it was enough to fall off entirely.

SMACK.

"Ooh…that mud doesn't look too pleasant…but while you're cleaning yourself up a bit, I have some more information for you," Byakuya gaily commented, pleased beyond measure that the rain he'd damned only an hour before kept his neck intact…albeit freezing.

"Teme…" Inuyasha growled as he tugged his stiff body out of the mud, one limb at a time.

Byakuya held back his wince at the sucking sound of the muck on the hanyou's form, and started his speech:

"During the night, Naraku saw fit to relieve you of one of your possessions. If you should wish to duel with him for the sake of this possession, you will meet him at a large field twenty li northwest of here in two day's time. Should you fail to reach it by then, he will consider the match forfeit and the possession his to do with as he wishes. Until then he will keep her under the best care possible for any hostage."

Byakuya fell out of his dull recitation-induced gaze and looked sharply at Inuyasha.

"Do you agree to the terms?" he intoned with uncharacteristic formality.

It suddenly hit Inuyasha what 'the possession' was. What scent, what aura, what presence was missing. What was making him so on edge, more than any rainy day.

_Kagome._

He stood, frozen, stunned, for a moment—

Then he leaped straight up at the youkai, no warning, no signal. He swiped his claws in a powerful, rage-fueled arc—so close, so close! He missed by a hair.

Byakuya was not amused. He was terrified, and pissed. "Do you accept the terms or not, hanyou? If you say yes, make it to the field on time, and win, you'll have her back, not a hair out of place! It is your only chance."

"You…piece of shit kisama…of course I fucking accept the terms! As if there's a fucking choice to it! Now get the hell out of my sight unless you want to be five million little paper cranes instead!" Inuyasha growled out, incensed at himself for his failure—enough to let this bastard go. Of course, it helped that he didn't know who was guilty of _physically_ stealing Kagome…

Byakuya gave no acknowledgment of having heard. He just zipped away as fast as he could. The sooner this whole ploy was over with the sooner he could get away from those knives of claws…

Paper and knives don't mix, you know.

--

_Breathe in…breathe out…in…out…1…2…3…4…5…6…_

Miroku was meditating in the rain in front of a small road-side shrine. Or, to put it better: attempting it.

…_7…8…9…10…11…13, no, 12…21, no, 18! Wait, no, 15!—_

"Ah, screw it," he muttered to himself an uncharacteristic show of frustration. The fifth failed attempt at counting past 21 when you were a learned and practiced monk did that to you.

Sighing, he clambered to his feet, resigned to moving on. Peace of mind really was impossible right now, wasn't it…

He smiled darkly to himself. His life had always been full of turmoil, from his father's memorable death by his own hand to his most recent adventures searching for the shikon no tama—but he'd always been able to sort out the storm of thoughts in his mind without too much difficulty. It was how he stayed sane with such a curse. But now…

He shook his head. Here he was, standing, lost in thought, completely forgetting the Amida Buddha at his feet! He reached for a few offerings in his robes, placed them before the statue, bowed, and said a small prayer. No one else was near, so he indulged himself in breaking the quiet by praying aloud.

He prayed for strength, for peace, for harmony. But most of all, he prayed for one woman who was strong, who deserved peace, with whom he breathed in harmony…

Finally lifting his head, he turned away. He started back on the muddy path to the final battlefield.

If he had looked back, even once, he would have seen a little concerned cat, and that woman standing not a few meters behind him, mouth open, eyes wide—but she was silent, he did not hear her, he did not look back…

She was behind him now.

--

"Arrgh! You can't keep me in here forever, you know!"

Kagome pulled at her shackles for the fiftieth time. At least, it felt that way. She'd only been awake a few minutes, but she was already snarling with anger and frustration, her wrists red with the chafing. The pain didn't dissuade her. It just got her that much madder.

"What kind of one-on-one duel is this, huh? Kidnapping me and putting me in chains in this slimy basement!"

It was hard to tell who she was talking to, in the predominantly empty cell, but she knew quite well. The room was full of oozing, twitching forms—but she'd long forgotten them in her indignant rage. No, it was the little glimmer of light from above—her one sign of an exit, of a world beyond this dank hole—that she focused her attentions on.

Somehow she knew Naraku could hear her. She couldn't really explain it; his jyaki was stale, his visage and voice completely absent—and yet she was sure. He was listening to every word, and chuckling that disgusting laugh of his.

And that thought alone—not of her helplessness, not of her dire situation, not of the creepy-crawlies only inches away—fueled her ire. She couldn't bear to think of him laughing at her limp form dangling against this clammy wall. It seemed stupid, silly, befitting the same category of annoyances as showing up to school without pants—but there it was.

She was pissed. And he was going to hear about it till her voice failed her.

She kept good on that promise, too. Hours later, she was still insulting the dark hanyou, voice nothing more than a rasp.

By that nightfall, it was gone altogether, and every time it recovered a bit, she'd abuse it some more. She was literally destroying her voice.

Unfortunately for Inuyasha.

--

Naraku was, in fact, chuckling. Though it was at something rather different than Kagome's humiliating helplessness.

The wolf, the notorious coward, had finally seen fit to leave his den. And, to add to the hanyou's amusement, the ookami was heading straight for the village Naraku was born in, so long ago.

He encouraged his saimyoushou spy to get closer…the wolf's lips were moving, perhaps he was saying something of interest?

He unconsciously leaned forward, oddly curious about the wolf's thoughts.

"…Kagome, what…can't be…is this?...Yes! It is!...My love…happy…so close…"

His smirk spread sickly wide.

"So, Kouga! You desire the miko, even when she has no interest in you? You seek her out, you think she will find happiness in your embrace? I fear you are too late…"

He positively grinned, pulling back from the pool altogether when the wolf failed to say anything else.

"Your beloved miko is in the hands of one that knows true desire, the real power and thrill of it, as you can only dream of knowing it…" he murmured, eyes oozing malevolent pleasure.

"But never fear," he reassured the ookami, turning back to stare intently at his worried, tensed form.

"I will educate her well."

--

_Breathe in. Breathe out. In. Out. 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7…_

Kaede meditated while that morning's pot of tea came to a boil. She was trying to sort her fears and concerns for her young friends into some semblance of order.

_13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21._

She stopped.

The tea was ready.

Carefully, she poured a cup for herself, and then another. She had a feeling she'd be having a visitor.

Sure enough, just as she'd settled back down, one steaming cup in hand, the other on the mat, a sodden guest burst through the screen over her door.

He'd traveled too fast—or she had been too preoccupied—to notice his youki until he was in the room, twisting and twitching in all his worried frenzy, water droplets flying every which way.

"Who—who're you? Where's Kagome?! I need to talk to Kagome—she's a miko, like you, but dressed strangely—you have to know who she is, her scent is all over the place here—" he babbled, eyes darting from left to right, hands clenching at his sides.

"Calm yourself, Kouga. Kagome is not here, but I do know where. I can get a message to her without too much trouble. But only if you stop this blather and tell me what it is she needs to know."

She spoke with force, but politely all the same. Most of all, she was calm; collected. It was a comforting demeanor.

In spite of himself, and his own urgent, rushing need to _find Kagome and warn her_—he listened to the old woman and sat down, fidgeting still, but blithering no more.

"You're sure she's not here? Because her scent—"

"She spends much time here. I believe some of her possessions are here too. But she is not here now, and has not been here for a few weeks. I am not lying to you."

Stern. That was the word he was looking for to describe this old woman…stern. Not easily dissuaded. He took a deep breath. He didn't know her, but somehow…he felt like he could trust her.

"You sure you can get a message to her quick? You sure I shouldn't just turn tail and track her to wherever she's at now?" he asked, still wary and tense, no matter how much his muscles wanted to rest after his arduous journey.

"Yes, I am sure. Tell me what you need her to know. The courier I will send it with is out for the moment, but when he returns, I will give him the message. In the meantime, tell me what it is. It will settle your mind and clear up what is most important for her to know."

Kaede sealed that with the warm cup of tea she handed him. Baffled, but honored, he took it.

"Kagome is in danger," he began after a short sip. His eyes roved far away. "I was out hunting a week or so ago, and I heard something. I thought it was game…I hid, and watched. It was that bastard Byakuya. He was…doing something odd. I didn't know what it was, so I decided to wait to kill him until after I figured it out."

"Intelligent of you," Kaede commented, tone completely neutral.

Smirking a little, he nodded. "Thanks…I know, it must be weird for you, the mutt being such a baka…"

"I would not say that. But continue with your story." Stern again, though somehow still neutral.

"Oh, yeah. Of course. Well, anyway…so, I was hiding, watching the bastard do something funny with this piece of paper…folding it in weird ways, talking over it, casting a spell over it, some shit like that…and then, he throws it on the ground. And a second later, a copy of him is there! It looked just like him, smelled just like him too! I've never seen an illusion that good!"

Kaede sucked in her breath, thinking: _what does this mean…_

"He could even make it do stuff—whatever he wanted. I watched him testing it out, making it do or say different things. He made it walk, fly, even fight a little with him, hand-to-hand."

He took another sip of the brew; to steady rather than warm himself, it seemed. He trembled with anxiety, not cold, for all that he was drenched to the bone.

"But scarier was when he got it to talk. He just stood there, smirking, while this illusion, this copy, this _fake_ talked like you or me. After a bit they even started having a conversation, talking to each other! I remember what they were saying too, the bastards…"

He drank again, draining the cup; this time it seemed for dramatic tension. But it might have been for strength.

"Byakuya said: 'My illusion is complete, isn't it?'

"And then that creepy thing said: 'Sight, sound, touch, taste, smell…and more than that,' whatever the hell that means…

"Byakuya answered back with: 'It is easier to manipulate than any kugutsu, and so much more difficult to destroy…'

"And so the copy, nodding (damn, it looked creepy,) said: 'It will be amusing to see just how long it takes that foolish girl to tell which of the youkai and ningen around her are copies, and which real…'

"And that bastard Byakuya finished: 'That is, if she ever figures it out…'"

"My. It seems that Kagome truly is in danger," Kaede softly said. "Thank you for coming, Kouga."

Kouga shook his head, admitting: "You don't know the rest of it…"

"Oh?"

"There's a reason it took me a week to get here…"

--

"One, two…Three, four…Five, six…Seven, eight…"

Inuyasha counted with each breath he exhaled, a harsh and merciless duple-meter beat. It kept time with each powerful thrust, each elegant soar, each miraculous landing and bunching of legs for yet another thrust. He was racing, roaring, tearing across the countryside like an angry locomotive. He hardly noticed the rain that pelted him like cold bullets.

His mind was on the edge, he could feel it. Slipping and sliding and tripping along the knife's edge of sanity, clinging desperately after his footing had been knocked out from under him.

The meeting with Byakuya yesterday had shaken the knife, a little. Enough to be uncomfortable, but not enough to be a real danger. But then the dream…that nightmare grabbed the knife and shook and shook and shook. And Kagome's kidnapping was a direct blow, strong enough that he had yet to recover.

He counted because it was a trick he had learned as a child to keep from screaming, no matter the situation. He still used it sometimes, though less and less often since he'd met Kagome…

_Kagome…where is she now? In this village—no, that's stupid. Naraku has her with him, somewhere else, waiting for me to get there. Or maybe he's not waiting at all. Maybe it was just another piece-of-shit lie, some diversion so I won't go after him and track him down directly. Maybe it's just to buy time to do whatever the hell he wants to do to her now, only to show me what's left when I finally get to this goddamn place—_

The image of Kagome's battered and bloody body burned before his eyes…

_But what the hell can I do about it? If he does hold up the bargain, and doesn't do anything, but I don't come because I'm off trying to track him somewhere else—shit, I can't let that happen…and it's not like I have a fucking clue where he's hiding now, anyway…this…this field is something…though sure as hell it's a trap…fuck…Kagome...  
_

His vision zoomed in. He could see a drop of miasma falling, falling, falling, landing on her pale forehead, sizzling and burning through the soft skin, to the bone, through it, spreading, infecting…

_I won't let it happen! Fuck it, I won't! _

"One two! Three four! Five six! Seven eight!" he grunted, his downbeats accented, his tempo shooting from allegro to presto…and showing no signs of wavering.

He pushed himself hard that day. And through the night. The counting kept his mind focused on the task, and not on nightmares, and he didn't dare stop. Without Kagome's calming scent…aura…self…he depended on the numerical monotony. The repeated measure was security, or the most he could get.

As much as his mind treasured the method, his body coincided with it. His pace never faltered; he ignored the building ache in his body easily. He didn't think that he was steadily demolishing his strength, though he was. Only that he was moving as fast as he could, to save her. To beat Naraku, once and for all.

Unfortunately for Kagome.

--

"Mmm…not as good as inu blood, but still up there!"

"What the hell is this?!" Kouga did not seem pleased at the interruption. He held out the squashed flea like a dirty diaper.

"Myouga-jisan, the messenger I mentioned earlier that will give your information to Kagome," Kaede answered in a flat, neutral tone, clearly not approving of his treatment of the flea, but not exactly _dis_approving either…the wolf was provoked, after all, and Kaede was nothing if not fair.

"And you must be Kouga, the ookami youkai?" Myouga blinked up at him, voice surprisingly loud for his size.

Kouga was thrown off a bit, but answered readily enough: "Er—yeah…How did you—?"

"Oh, I've heard many a complaint from Inuyasha-sama about you. You'll have to forgive him his possessiveness of the pretty Kagome-sama; but how can he help it? She's lovely! And her blood tastes soo sweet…"

Myouga didn't realize he'd said too much until an all-too-familiar furious pinching left him even smaller than usual.

"Oi, how the hell do you know what Kagome's blood tastes like!—"

"Enough, you two! Kagome is in serious danger. Now is not the time for such behavior." Kaede punctuated her order with a resounding glare and firm, implacable tone. The males gulped and shut up without too much trouble.

"Now, as you were saying, Kouga?" she asked politely, steely tone now sheathed.

"Er…yeah…Byakuya…and his crazy-ass spells—" he answered, still somewhat scared that this old miko was going to purify him with her glare.

"What! What spells? Byakuya? So, you mean that he is creating some new type of illusion? What type? When? Where is he now?!" Myouga cut back in, quivering in alarm.

Kaede could not help herself. She rolled her eyes. "I think we need to fill Myouga-jisan in on the details, Kouga."

"Yeah…" he agreed, perplexed at the old flea demon's demeanor's sky-rocket into terror.

For the next hour or so, Kouga and Kaede summarized his experience for the flea. It took half as long the first time through. The problem was that at every new tidbit of information, the flea would either go on some tangent about somewhat related spells he knew of, try to analyze it all then and there, or need reassurance that he wasn't actually in any immediate danger. Not that the flea would come out openly about it of course, but his questions would be very…revealing when his fears were piqued.

And of course after that hour they had to spend more time with the second half of the narrative: the cause Kouga's lateness. That had the flea transported with fear, completely (well, not completely) irrational as it was.

Though in fairness, Kaede was disturbed by the news as well. And Kouga was rather relieved to get it off his chest.

There was only so much depravity a healthy mind could take.

--

"—and that doesn't even _begin_ to tell you what I'd do if I had an actual weapon on my hands! Say, a shuriken, just one, that's all I'd need, I'd take it and draw a bead and just when you didn't suspect it—"

Really, it was pitiful.

"—or, say I had a katana! I would whip that blade out and slash it right across your—"

The fact that she was still screaming like that. With a voice that crippled. Honestly.

"And if I had my bow and arrows! I'd blow this place away just like I did that first time! Only I wouldn't miss hitting you—oh, no, I'd take you down one disgusting appendage at a time!"

Her strident, rough tones fell away, again, into a pathetic dègringolade of hacking and rasped attempts at words…yes, quite pitiful indeed.

Not to mention damnable inconsiderate. How was he supposed to fabricate an exact replica of her voice when he didn't even have the original to go off of!

Byakuya was sorely tempted to give her some water, or even one of the odder weapons she was now ranting about. If it would get her voice back to normal...

Bah, enough whining about it. He could at least work on the physical appearance and scent when stressed. He could just make her out through the slit in the cellar door.

Of course, he could always let his eye do the spying for him, let it flit down into that darkness and observe her up close; he was sure she wouldn't notice, there were so many other twitching slimy things down there…and that was precisely his reason.

He was not all that pleased at the idea of something as important as his eye in such a chamber, in such company as the wriggling sloughed off parts of his master.

Yecch. Even thinking about it had him queasy.

Why bother doing it then. He could see her just fine from up here. Well, maybe he couldn't see quite how far the blood dribbled down her arms from her aching wrists, or the ooze on the wall congealing into sticky cords in her hair, or the swelling purple bruise on her cheek and jaw where Naraku's imitation had backhanded her the night before…

But did he want to?

Perfect imitation be damned. No one wanted to see a sight as pitiful as that.

--

Sango was torn. She didn't know…she didn't know what she wanted to do…

Hearing him pray like that, for so many things, for her…it scared her. It sounded like he was bargaining with the kami for her sake.

She was in a daze, confused, fearful, despondent…pulled from one side to the other by her emotions, like some ragdoll…

Now her anger with Miroku pulled her, dragged her to fiercely climb back on Kirara and put up with the rain and defiantly observe and follow the monk from above. How dare he put his life in danger!

But then…it crept over her. Those words. That voice. So empty, so bleak, so dead…saying her name. Praying for her sake. Showing her just how damn much he cared, but how much it couldn't save him, how weak they were in this clash of good and evil, these huge things, so big, ready to swallow them at a moment's notice…

She'd get distracted easily…stare off into space…lose track of the monk, close her eyes, even loosen her grip on Kirara's fur…if it wasn't for the diligence of the cat, her despair might have ended her, then and there, with an impersonal splat on the muddy path below.

Finally a third emotion took over both of them: confusion.

And that was where she was stuck now. Following, but not knowing why anymore. Her clarity of purpose was gone, shattered into a thousand little shards, each refracting in a different way. The light was blinding her.

She could not see why she continued on. And yet she could not stop herself.

She was powerless, a flailing little fly caught in fate's web, like so many others…

Now was the time to see who could tear away. Was she one of them?

--

The night was not a restful one.

The rain hammered the earth, hard and relentless, impersonal and yet so very personal. It seemed to hate the earth and everything on it even as it ignored them all: the science of despising something. It was consistently dreary, perpetually dark. The sun was snuffed out long before its time, and the meager filtered light afterwards? Ha! Out like a candle, right after the sun.

The moon could not begin to pierce the shroud of cloud cover, and the stars never stood a chance.

This blackness might have been helpful, on another night. A time for deep, deep sleep.

But not tonight.

Tonight the rain ground into your bones like a blanket full of icy blunted needles. And even if you were inside, the dull drumming sounded like the prelude to a funeral dirge. Your execution.

No, rest was not an option on a night like this.

--

**A/N:** My sincerest apologies for the wait. Especially considering that this chapter has been written the entire time--I just needed to edit it more. And I didn't want to post it until I had the next chapter's rough done. And I haven't been able to write for these past few weeks at all. That's the kicker...I'm sorry. If you want someone to blame, blame the college admissions process for taking so damn long and taking so much out of the students. Especially those applying to the higher end schools...State school applications are cake, but the Stanford application, for example, has three essays just in the supplement and short answer questions too. I'm not trying to point fingers at Stanford, because they have some of the best and most relevant prompts--so despite the work, it is to their and our advantage--but the system in general is messed up.

And enough of my complaints. I'm here to write, not tell my life's story. That's what college essays are for...yuck.

Back to writing: pathetic fallacy is a real treat, and a fabulous way to break writer's block and get back in the groove of a story/warm up; I highly recommend it.


	5. Chapter 5

Of Spirit and Spice

**Disclaimer: ** I don't own Inuyasha. That honor belongs to Takahashi-san.

Chapter 4: Escalation

--

Kagome woke to pain.

First her tired, stiff mind registered the reopening of the barely-dried wounds on her wrists. Then the dull soreness of her limbs, then the sharp needles in her scalp as someone pulled her head up by the hair.

She cracked open her eyes, too weak to do much else. Her head ached, her mouth felt gummy, her tongue like wood, and when she tried to speak, the dull ache in her throat erupted with clawing pain.

She wanted water... But she forgot that in a moment.

"Who…who're you?" she managed to croak at the faceless shadow.

It said nothing, but dimly she realized that it was holding her and setting her down on the damp floor, steadying her in case she slipped or crumpled as her legs shook.

The wheel of her mind stumbled into motion. The pain from her wrists was from the opening of her manacles. The soreness that pervaded every muscle was from all her flailing the day before. Perhaps this stranger had pulled her head up by her hair to spare aggravating her bruised and swelling chin?

She dared to ask, but still he didn't respond. What was going on…

With a shudder, she felt her miko senses awaken. That was odd…they'd never gone to sleep like that before…maybe the miasma in this place really was getting to her…

She gasped when she recognized the aura beside her. Her mind flew into activity, a chaos of questions and confused possibilities. It was a stark contrast to her shambling steps as her savior led her by the hand towards the exit of the cellar.

_What is he doing here? How did he get here? How did he know—how could he have gotten so far—how did I not recognize him? Where is—why aren't they here—why isn't—did something happen…No, that's impossible! Why won't he talk—why won't he tell me what's going on? He normally—this is __so__ odd—he's not acting like himself at all—but it __is__ him, I'm sure of it! But what happened to his—I'm not dreaming, am I? No, my throat hurts too much for that…I guess I just have to… go with this…it'll make sense soon…right?_

_Of course it will. I…have to believe that it will._

Her mind resolved, the fight became entirely physical. Her body was tired and dehydrated, but her dogged determination lent her strength. Slowly but surely she crossed the chamber with her guide, and finally they reached the slit of light that signaled the exit.

With horror she realized that there was no ladder; the thin bar of light fell on tired, weeping eyes. But before she could turn to her companion to commiserate, he'd saved her again.

With a careful prod of his staff, he opened the door, and quickly hoisted her through. How he got up, she wasn't sure; the throw had caught her off guard, and she'd landed in a tangled heap that took a full minute to escape from; by the time she looked up, he was there, helping her up and closing the trapdoor behind them.

"Miroku-sama—" she couldn't contain herself now, seeing his face, the undeniable proof—that is, until he clamped a hand over her mouth, and shook his head.

She understood immediately, and nodded. They were still in danger; talk would come later.

Assured that she wouldn't endanger them again, he removed his hand and motioned for her to follow him down the hallway, down one turn, then another, then up a flight, then down another hallway…

She did so without question, grateful beyond words that she had a guide to escape this labyrinth.

She couldn't hide the relieved smile that fluttered about her face.

Naraku found it amusing.

--

Two figures, one tiny, one squat, stood together on a wooden porch, sheltered from the rain.

"Where's Myouga-jiji going?" Shippou asked, eyebrows knotted over squinting eyes as he tried to make out the flea's raven flying away through the gray downpour.

Kaede sighed, also watching the bird disappear into an inky smudge, a dot, and then nothing. Only then did she look down at the child.

"Myouga-jisan is sending a message to Inuyasha and Kagome. Byakuya has a new trick they need to know about before it's too late."

"Oh…" he responded softly, eyes large with surprise. He hadn't expected that.

"Is that why Kouga's here? To tell her?"

"Yes, that is why he came here. He is only staying until he regains his strength. Then he will leave and give Miroku the information as well. It is imperative that they all know as soon as possible."

Kaede's voice was serious and business-like, but her gesture to move inside and escape the chilly porch was warm. Shippou gladly hopped into the fire-lit room.

They did not speak for a time as they settled on the tatami mats and Kaede dished out her steaming stew.

With surprise, Shippou noticed Kouga curled up in a corner, eyes shut, face pale, asleep.

"W-when you said that Kouga was staying 'til he 'regains his strength'…you didn't mean—he didn't—nothing happened to him, did it? He just ran into a tree or something, right?" Shippou stuttered, soup forgotten, eyes large with worry.

"I am afraid that that is not the entire story, Shippou. But do not be alarmed. He will be well again in a few hours at most," Kaede attempted to reassure the kit after a cursory glance in the wolf's direction.

"Most of the problem is that he did not take shelter at night despite the weather. He managed to catch a cold from the constant damp and lack of food," she added after blowing on her soup.

"Youkai don't get sick—" Shippou spat out his spoonful, disbelieving.

"They do if their strength has been diminished enough and they don't find shelter," she cut him off firmly, sending a mildly incriminating glance at the ookami.

"However, in Kouga's case, it is a good thing he did not stop for the weather, despite the consequences," she added after a thoughtful pause and sip.

"B-but now he's sick! And now Miroku might not find out soon enough—" Shippou spluttered, incredulous all over again. How could Kaede not think of these things!

"His information was of most importance to Kagome. We think Naraku will target her first, and if he employs Byakuya's newly developed technique…"

Shippou jumped to his feet, dropping his soup so it hissed in the fire, but he didn't notice, he was even more upset than before—"But it was Miroku that Byakuya came and made that deal with! Miroku's the one with the hand that will kill him any day now! What makes you think that Naraku would go after Kagome first—I mean, he wouldn't, would he? But she's with Inuyasha! He'll protect her—"

"Shippou, calm yourself!" Kaede warned, setting her own bowl down, her face becoming stern to hide her worry.

"No!" Shippou yelled right back, stomping his little foot, angry tears sprouting like weeds.

"Kagome and Miroku are in danger! Inuyasha probably too! And Myouga-jiji might not get to them in time—and Kouga definitely won't 'cause he's sick—and if they don't find out what Naraku's up to in time—they'll die!"

"No one is going to die," the old miko intoned severely.

"Yes they are! It's hopeless, isn't it! We can't work right when we're separated or angry at each other, and Kagome and Inuyasha are off at Jinenji's and Miroku's chasing Naraku and Sango's chasing Miroku and Naraku will just pick them off one by one with his new trick—"

"Oi…can a demon get a little sleep?"

Shippou whipped his head at the corner where the tired Kouga frowned. In a flash he was upon the older demon, begging him to wake up and go save his family. Miroku, Sango, Inuyasha, Kagome! Shippou was terrified; his fear ran rampant through his every frantic word and every frenzied gesture and pleading pull at the ookami's furs.

Kaede didn't try to stop the little boy anymore. She closed her eyes, sad. She loved children, just as her older sister had... And Shippou was just a child, for all his talk.

He was frightened and desperate and vulnerable. Kouga pitied him once he understood, but he didn't have the strength to reassure him. He fell back to sleep with the little kitsune sobbing, heaving, then quietly weeping into his shoulder.

A tantrum could be ended with discipline. But truth? Frightening real possibilities?

Neither adult in the room knew quite how to deal with the child's words.

--

Kagome breathed a sigh of relief as Miroku mouthed that this was the last door.

She didn't question why he gestured for her go first. He was her friend. She trusted him.

She slid it open and stepped through, finally letting down her guard completely to close her eyes and feel the wind on her face—the miasma-stricken air was hardly fresh, but it moved in a way the air in a building never can, and the fluttering against her cheeks and teasing of her hair felt oh so wonderful, simply singing of joyous freedom; she sighed, raising her arms in relief. Incidentally leaving herself wide open.

A hard one-two blow to the ribs and head from a wooden staff knocked her down.

She barely had time to blink at her assailant and register his purple robes and blank face and feel the betrayal strike through her before she blacked out.

--

Jinenji had always liked the rain. It made his farm grow green and lush, and a pleasant pattering sound on the roof. It collected into wells and fed streams to drink from, and cleaned the air so everything seemed clearer.

Where most saw dismal gray skies, he saw the promise of new life.

His bewildered depression persisted despite all that.

A full day and two nights had gone by since he'd last seen Kagome and Inuyasha. They had left with no warning or message or trace…and it confused and concerned him.

_They shouldn't be traveling in this weather…_he worried, crouched on his porch, eyes reflecting his anxiety and the churning heavens all at once.

_They wouldn't have left behind the medicine for their friend, unless…something happened…_ He couldn't hold that thought back, no matter how much he feared the possibilities it suggested.

He hefted the bag, so tiny compared to his large hand, contemplating just what could have made such staunch and loyal people forget their purpose and their friend's wellbeing.

His reverie was rudely broken by a sharp prick on his neck. A mosquito? During a cold rain?

"You must be Jinenji-san! I am Myouga-sama, retainer to Inuyasha-sama! I heard he was visiting you—but I can't seem to find him here; where did he go?"

_His retainer? A hanyou has a youkai for a servant? _Jinenji couldn't help but wonder at the inspiring inu hanyou, succeeding in so many ways despite his heritage.

Myouga took the moment to hop to the end of his shoulder, so that they could converse eye to eye.

"I do not know where Inuyasha-san went. He left a day ago, as did his companion, the kind Kagome," Jinenji politely replied, putting a lid on his curiosity regarding the flea.

"Did they not say where they were going? I have an urgent message for both of them!" Myouga literally jumped with vexation.

"No, they did not," the uma-hanyou answered in troubled low tones; his apprehension spurred him to offer more information: "they forgot the medicine for their cursed friend as well." He lifted the small bag as evidence.

"They did? That is very strange, very strange indeed. They must have left in a great hurry to do so…" Myouga's curiosity was piqued, calming his frantic disposition from jumping to merely jittery.

"Was there any demon activity around the time they left?" he swiftly asked.

"No…I did not notice any," Jinenji answered honestly enough.

"Any disturbances in the balance of energies of the area?" the flea shot off.

A long blink. "I am sorry, but I do not think that I know what you mean," the uma-hanyou finally responded.

"Did anything feel…wrong, but not in a clearly defined way? Like something touching you on the shoulder that's not there," Myouga quickly explained, mind whirring.

"Not yesterday…but something like that happened two nights ago." Jinenji looked distinctly uncomfortable as he admitted it, as if he should have realized the connection before.

"I slept badly that night…as if someone was…blowing in my ear," he described with difficulty.

"Blowing in your ear, did you say! Interesting, interesting…well, it is clear that something happened that they had to deal with that night," the flea mused good-naturedly.

His business-manner mien calmed the uma-hanyou's nerves greatly. The flea seemed informed, intelligent, clever. Perfectly capable of figuring things out and trustworthy in regards to Inuyasha-san. He breathed a sigh of relief.

That is, until fear clouded the flea's face darker than the sky outside or even the raven perched on a nearby tree.

"I only hope it has nothing to do with the content of my message," Myouga realized.

"I only hope I'm not too late…"

--

Miroku strode solidly along, his outward appearance calm and purposeful. Inside, he was worried.

For the past few hours he'd suffered the inexplicable but unmistakable feeling of being followed.

At first he'd disregarded it as a product of his tired and paranoid mind. Naraku didn't need to stalk him. Naraku would trap him, then try to kill him. That was how Naraku did things.

And yet…he couldn't shake the feeling. The hairs on the back of his neck would not go back down. The tickles along his spine would not cease. Something must be following him.

What, he wasn't sure. He didn't feel any youki, so it was either a very weak, if sneaky demon, or a very skilled human. What human would follow him, he didn't know.

But as the hours dragged by, it became increasingly clear that he or she or it was not going to reveal her/his/its-self soon.

He hadn't had a glimpse, nor a whiff, nor heard a sound from his 'companion'. But every now and then, he noted traces—displaced leaves, a single dark hair, birds startled from their bushy rain shelters—that reassured him that this was no trick of the imagination.

And so he waited too. He was patient; unlike Inuyasha, he did not have to rush into every battle, weapon drawn and spittle flying. He could collect information on the sly, and choose his time to attack.

It was only a matter of time…_Buddha-sama!_ A shuriken barely missed his shoulder.

He felt the water on it flick across his neck. He whirled around, hearing a rustle—he saw a shadow, a figure moving in the brush farther down the path, coming closer, into view—

A hard, determined stare. Long, damp dark hair. A giant bone boomerang hefted easily as paper.

And just as easily flung his way.

_What in the name of the blessed Buddha's teeth and lotus is happening?!_

--

Byakuya's face scrunched in concentration as he deftly looped yet more details into his construct.

He tried to focus on the task, but he couldn't prevent the stray derisive thought that skittered across his mind…_can't exactly blame the dog or Naraku-sama for their weakness to this creature…_

An all-too-pleased chuckle snapped his thoughts back to the proper line.

"Kukukuku…Can you imagine that hanyou's expression when he finds her? A simply brilliant plan. I'll be surprised if he doesn't lose control within a few seconds. It's fraying as it is, and she's only been here for a day and a half…she is more of a weakness than even Kikyou!"

Naraku relished the scene before him: a few feet away, Kagome, bared to the skin, unconscious, vulnerable, prone on the tatami…Byakuya crouched at her side, rebellious thoughts quelled, entirely focused on his task…the large urn at his side, surface displaying his weakening enemy…yes, things were certainly going his way…

"Whe…where am I?" the girl rasped.

Naraku's smile only widened. "You do not remember? You were kidnapped, and then imprisoned, and now you are finally being used."

His phrasing caught her attention in a disturbing way. She abruptly realized she was naked. And that Byakuya was sitting only 2 feet away.

Instinctively, she tried to curl in on herself, give herself some modicum of modesty; sharp pain lanced through her at the rapid movement, and she was forced to lie still, biting her tongue to stifle her startled moan.

Could she feel any more violated and vulnerable? "Where is Miroku-sama?"

Naraku moved swiftly, sitting beside her in a rustle of silk, his gaze greedy and greasy as he gently feathered her bangs.

Apparently not.

She flinched instinctively, and mustered enough fluid to spit in his face. Her throat felt like a hot throbbing mass of scar tissue now, but it was worth it when he reeled back, almost falling over in surprise.

He stared at her a moment, rage flickering behind his crimson eyes, before he gave a short laugh.

"You still have your pride, do you? Do you know what Byakuya is doing?"

She glanced at the youkai for a moment, biting her lip, goosebumps prickling, but returned to her first question. "I don't care. What happened to Miroku-sama? Where is he? What did you do to him—"

Byakuya noted the emotional quantum-jump: embarrassed to incensed. _How did that happen? I thought only Naraku-sama could flip feelings so quickly…_ He batted the thought away, but it came back, like a boomerang.

"You think I had control over him? That he is my slave now, as Kohaku once was? I won't lie, that thought is a tempting one…I thank you for the suggestion…but that is not the case."

She winced at his approval, but kept up her fierce front. "You don't actually expect me to believe that Miroku-sama has decided to help you, do you?"

"So you persist in your belief that I have taken over him?" She didn't like the way his teeth now showed.

"What other answer could there be?" she shot back, covering her confusion with bravado, still sure Miroku would never have intentionally hurt her.

His grin could have curdled milk. "That was no houshi. It was a construct, an illusion, a simulacrum…and Byakuya is making your effigy that much more convincing as we speak."

Her eyes wide, she flicked a look at Byakuya—and noticed, with numb horror, the way his eyes soaked in every detail of her form, and how he swiftly turned away, muttering intently over an origami crane…

"And of course, he has many more of them…he can make one of anyone…and the auras will be the same, the voices, the touch, the feel, the scent…perfect replicas. Perfect deceptions. All under my control."

She gathered herself, and spat back: "Perfect? That's impossible, and you know it!"

"You were fooled, were you not?" he pointed out with a condescending smile, as if he were speaking to some child throwing a tantrum over incontrovertible facts…well, she was, wasn't she…

"Th-that means nothing! I was in Miroku-sama's—the fake's—presence for only a short while, and he never spoke! And I'm hardly at my best currently! Inuyasha and the others will figure it out, just watch!"

She didn't know whether she screamed at her own fears or at his smug face. She didn't particularly care. She'd forgotten her aches and forgotten her abused vocal chords and naked everything—she was livid, sitting up, strong, facing him down.

He relished her reaction, but covered it with quick movement: he gripped her arm, pulling her to her feet, then to the urn.

"Your confidence in them is touching. Why don't you simply watch yourself?" he whispered in her ear, breath smooth and oily across her cheek. She shuddered, but his firm grip on her arms and his undeniable presence at her back had her leaning forward to look, heart pulsing in her throat, but why, she wasn't sure…

--

Kouga stretched a little in the dim light, contemplating the gray sodden view Kaede's porch opened to.

He took a careful sniff as he rolled his shoulders, stiff from sleeping on a wooden floor and not his den's furs. Water, water, and more water flooded his nostrils. A bit concerned, he took a deeper breath; the scent wasn't gone yet completely, was it? It had rained a lot, but still…

Nothing…nothing…there! A faint trace. To the northeast.

He dashed off into the rainy night. He wasn't sure how long this trail would hold—it was a weak, thin thing at best—but it would have to do.

What other option was there?

His thoughts were mirrored by his passenger's.

--

"First we will visit your friend the tajiya…as you can see, she isn't exactly at her best…"

Kagome's urge to snap something back was derailed as Sango's face swam into focus. The view was close enough that she could see the wrinkles that shouldn't have been there.

"Isn't it fascinating how her eyes swallow the light, like twin abysses?" Naraku intoned with the air of an unreasonably excited art critic.

Kagome's mouth was too dry to open. She couldn't tear her gaze away from her forlorn friend's.

"And the hollowness to her cheeks—she hasn't been eating enough, has she? Worry over the monk has eaten her away. You know this to be true."

Still, no words would come to her. She could only stare.

Smirking, Naraku trailed some fingers in the acid; ripples spread, distorting the image, isolating the colors, mixing, reforming, until it was finally still again.

Well, the surface was still.

--

A tumble of leaves, a screech of displaced branches, and an inu-hanyou burst from an especially dense copse, his chest heaving. He leapt on, over the stream and into the next part of the forest.

His body was complaining.

He ignored it.

Inuyasha was a few hours more than a day away from the field at his current pace; to slow down now would be disastrous. He had to be there, tomorrow, or else.

Or else what, he didn't want to know. He didn't think about it. He didn't let himself.

To think about it would lead to other unthinkable things, like him losing control and failing in his mission. Which would lead to then more unthinkable things, like Kikyou never being avenged and the slaughter of innocents to celebrate Naraku's triumph and Kagome's dea—

Unthinkable things. A vicious cycle, one leading to another to another. He could not let it start.

So he kept ignoring his growing soreness and shrinking belly. As he'd been saying for years: plenty of time to rest and eat after Naraku was dead.

He was weakening, physically. But he was used to it. He could work through it. His true strength had always been his perseverance; it would be put to good use now.

Unfortunately, he would need more than that to win the next day.

And with his rapidly diminishing faculties, his odds of winning in any case were unlikely.

But that, again, was unthinkable.

--

The room was filled with the clash of weapons and grunts and thuds of leaps and landings, but no words were spoken by the two flashing figures in the urn.

Kagome stared, confused. Who were they? She saw no youki, but they seemed too quick to be human; the only humans she knew that could fight as fast as demons were—

Kagome's mouth finally cracked open, for a gasp: "Oh…"

Naraku smiled. It was a sick thing to see.

"I see you've finally recognized the real houshi. Do you understand what is happening?"

Not paying attention, she shook her head.

Delighted, he explained. "Well, you see, Byakuya sent them that same invitation for a one-on-one fight with me. But, only the houshi accepted, and the tajiya was very angry at him for doing so. Now she is fighting him, to stop him from fighting me.

"Of course it is actually a simulacrum of her—the real tajiya is busy fighting off a fake houshi some li away, because 'he' wants her to go home and not be in danger and she's forced him to do so in that manner. Would you care to watch that fight as well? It's only just beginning; and even you must admit that lover's spats are entertaining…"

Kagome's head lowered, and her bangs covered her eyes. They still darted over the scene, noting with disgust the exhaustion and sad acceptance—the despair!—marring Miroku's face, and the desperate anger twisting Sango's. She crossed her arms over her chest, and shuddered.

Naraku mistook it for cold. It was anger.

With fury racing through her she knocked the urn away, cracking it, spilling the acid all over the floor, all the while glaring and screaming:

"You awful, disgusting, twisted…thing! What is wrong with you! Why do you enjoy making people suffer?! You're not even a real sadist! You like them suffering at their beloved's hands! I wish the Kami would smite you now—"

"Insolent woman!" Naraku backhanded her, knocking her down easily.

That urn was his best means of observing his prey. Now he would be forced to go blind or give up Byakuya's imitation-refinements—and that was not an option.

Incensed, he pulled her up by the hair and slapped her again. She glared defiantly back, once her eyes opened.

Now grabbing a hand, he let the rest of her slump to the ground. He towered over her, toying with her fingers, and snarled: "Don't tempt me to break each bone in your body one by one. It would be my pleasure. Byakuya has all the physical information he needs by now. The only reason you're still alive is because I wish it. But if you would prefer your precious Inuyasha to find the real you, broken and raped and dead and rotting in some ditch, keep talking..."

By the end, his voice was smooth again, but the threat was all the more palpable.

Byakuya watched the girl carefully, curious as to her response.

He should have expected her impudent comeback, but he did not.

"Better the real me! Better to be dead and suffer and have him mourn something real than watch my friends fight and fail against falsehoods—but I suppose you wouldn't know, as you've never had any genuine friends or loves at all? Is that why you are the way you are? Because—"

"Be quiet, bitch," he whispered, clearly but intensely—genuinely.

And her silence was just as genuine—he'd finally hit her hard enough to knock her unconscious.

Muttering unintelligibly to himself, Naraku picked her up and carried her to a different cell. He put a barrier around the walls and ceiling and floor when he left. It would suffice.

Byakuya shook his head, and returned to his crane. Best not to invite attention with his master so…unsettled.

He allowed himself one independent thought before returning to his work: _The girl…she could…perhaps she has the strength…_

--

Sango woke to a sharp pain in her neck.

Slapping at it without thought, she slowly took in her situation…flying about fifty feet up, more rain, Kirara's fur in her face, Myouga on her nose…

_Wait. What?!_

She jerked upright, eyes crossed, and nearly fell off of Kirara. Sango hastily grabbed at the slick fur, barely avoiding disaster.

"I'm sorry...did I surprise you?" Myouga said meekly, from the relative safety of her shoulder.

"Just a little..." Sango growled, shaking herself a bit. "Why are you here, anyway?"

"I am looking for Inuyasha-sama and Kagome-sama; do you know where they are?" he said, demeanor shifting subtly.

Sango was surprised at the seriousness that had dropped over him, but didn't comment.

"At Jinenji's or on their way back to Kaede's village from there."

She suppressed a pang at the thought of her friends finally arriving at Kaede's to find them gone... It felt like years had passed since she'd last seen Kagome's smile or heard Inuyasha's 'keh'.

Myouga seemed to share her melancholy. "I'm afraid they are in no such place; I've only just come from Jinenji's, and before that Kaede's."

"What?! Then where could they be?"

"I have no idea. I only spotted Kirara by chance, and hoped that you knew," he pronounced with a frail finality. After a few silent moments broken only by the drumming of the rain, Myouga seemed to collect himself, and find a spark of hope.

"However. My information is still useful to you. Maybe you can carry it along...?"

"I'm sorry, but I can't. I'm following Miroku-sama." Sango didn't realize that she'd lost sight of him until she said it.

"Yes, yes, I know. Kaede-sama told me. Trust me, you want to know this."

Sighing at his condescending manner, but not protesting, Sango listened. And gaped. And cursed. And bent down to urge Kirara to speed ahead.

That is, right before a sutra with familiar glowing scrawl struck Kirara's paw. And struck them all down, screams lost in the wind of their fall, rain slow in comparison, but pelting all the same.

--

Kagome woke slowly, groggily. As she slowly blinked, adjusting to the dimness of the room, she took stock of her body. The pain was duller now, but it just seemed to have spread over more areas, with the rare hot spot: her throat, her chin, her cheek. Come to think of it, from the shoulders down she just felt tired. She tried to feel encouraged by that, but Sango's face swam into her mind and that spark of positive emotion was forgotten.

She bit back angry tears. To think that that—that—that creature was torturing her friends for his amusement made her simply furious. Her fists clenched unconsciously.

Byakuya nearly jumped back out of the room at the sight of the pink swirls around the girl's hands, but she'd heard him enter and it was too late.

"What are you doing here?" she asked flatly. She didn't hate him, but she didn't particularly like him—and she hardly felt like company at that moment.

He let out a breath as he saw the pink recede. It appeared that she hadn't done it intentionally, or that it wasn't meant for him. Perhaps he wouldn't be killed for this?

He let out a laugh at that thought. Sure, he wouldn't be killed by her—but not by Naraku? What a joke.

She cocked her head to the side, confused at the sound of his dry, bitter laugh. But for all her confusion, the tension eased enough for him to sit down and start talking.

"I'm here to explain some of what you saw in the urn."

"Really?" she asked carefully, surprised. He didn't blame her. If Naraku wasn't off gathering information on his own, he'd never have dared do this.

"Naraku-sama's not in the mansion, so I have quite a bit more freedom. However, this won't last long, so we need to be quick."

She nodded, still unsure, but willing to listen. He knew that was the best he'd get, and started speaking in earnest: quietly, smoothly, quickly, seriously. He wouldn't get such a chance again, would he?

"Your friend the tajiya was at the point you saw her on her cat, and had been speaking with a flea youkai. I presume the flea brought her bad news; she was asleep on the cat's back before he woke her up. I don't know what he said, and I don't know what happened after that.

"As for the houshi, he seemed suspicious of the simulacrum. He evaded her attacks for some minutes before she finally forced him to confront her. From what I've gathered of his character up to now, he is intelligent and knowledgeable enough to realize that an illusion of her could be created, though it might surprise him that they would sound and act so similarly in some respects, and give off the same aura. So there is hope that he realized and undid my spell, or simply defeated her, which would do the same."

"Do you know—" she couldn't help but ask, though she well knew the answer.

"No. I already told you. I don't know what happened after what you saw; thanks to your destroying the urn, the link was completely severed."

"Oh..." she said softly, disappointed, worried that she'd done the wrong thing in her burst of temper. But immediate concerns cut those thoughts off quickly. She'd learned from Inuyasha the importance of saving thinking for when you had the time.

"Why are you telling me all of this?" She thought that was a fair start.

"Because. I have no affection for you and yours, but less for my master. My late sister

Kagura and I had this in common: Onigumo's desire to be his own master, to have strength, to do as we wished. Naraku has Onigumo's ambitions, but I just damn well want to be free. To the degree that I'd make friends with my enemies, risking my own life in the process."

"Why should I trust that this isn't yet another ploy by Naraku, some twisted way to mess with me and think I have help, before it all comes crashing down on me?" she quietly pointed out. Her instincts told her to trust him—but she also wanted to know more about him, to understand him, and the more he talked the more she did. Miroku had taught her the value of collecting all available information, no matter how irrelevant it might have seemed on the surface.

"I would be a lot nicer and more convincing if I were lying. Lies have to seem real. The truth doesn't."

She nodded. He had a point, in a twisted sort of way.

"But enough of this; I don't have much time left. There's another thing I need to tell you, about how and why the illusions are such…devious and difficult opponents."

She seemed to be listening, so he rushed on; light was fading fast, and who knew when Naraku would be back.

"Did you feel tired earlier when I was working on your illusion?"

A random question, she thought, but answered honestly. "No more than usual after staying up all night thrashing and yelling. What's your point?"

He narrowed his eyes, somewhat suspicious and surprised, but then remembered the sheer size of her aura—and muffled the hope that threatened to break from his lips in a chuckle at Naraku's naïveté.

"Well, never mind that. You're an unusual case. But the way I made the illusions so like the originals was by infusing them and tying them to the original's auras. They draw on the original's energy and aura and abilities and thoughts and memories. Their words and most actions can be controlled by another, but in mannerisms and abilities they are the same as the original because they are taking the original's. Do you understand the implications of this?"

Her voice said "No..." but her mind said _Kami, no..._and meant something different.

"It means that if the illusions are not destroyed quickly enough, they will destroy the originals. They'll suck the energy—and, eventually, life force—right out of the originals.

"Their mere existence will kill the originals in a few days if not stopped."

--

Sango jumped from Kirara's back at the last minute, and rolled to her feet in a splatter of mud. Her stance was taut, knees bent and hiraikotsu ready, and she watched her opponent intently.

Miroku—the fake Miroku—calmly stood up from adding an extra (unnecessary) sutra to the incapacitated Kirara's fur.

His expression was a little sad, a little hurt, a little proud, and all serious. It looked damn well like him—too much for her liking. It didn't matter how abnormal he was acting—the looks and mannerisms alone were enough to handicap her.

Gulping, she pulled up her mask. It made her feel more like a fighter and less like a human with those soft, weak, squishy things called emotions.

"Well, Sango-sama, it seems that I cannot dissuade you from your opinion with words alone."

She didn't expect him to talk; to hear his voice made her arms go weak. This was a fake...right?

_Sango, get a hold of yourself! Remember what he did to Kirara!_ she silently yelled at herself. _But if he was really desperate, like he is now...? Would he do it?_ a quieter part of her couldn't help but think.

"So, I do not see the point of wasting my breath with futile persuasions."

That calm, ironically wordy sentence snapped her out of her confusion. Miroku would never give up 'persuasions'. Words were breath to him; the breath would be wasted without them, not the other way around! This could not be a fake.

The clarity of that knowledge lent her strength. She silently and swiftly attacked.

He dodged the hiraikotsu, as she knew he would, but she was already rushing him just as she let go. Her speed caught him by surprise, and her katana met a weak block.

She pushed him back, taking advantage of his hastily configured (sloppy) form, aiming to trip him back over some loose rubble.

But he caught on and twisted away, nearly throwing her down on the same rocks.

She caught herself and got to her feet in time, but could do no more than block as he struck. The two weapons locked, and it became a battle of strength. Whose footing would hold? Whose would falter?

Sango gritted her teeth as he put his weight into it; she couldn't last much longer like this; she was tiring too quickly, felt too weak. It was odd, but she attributed it to his height and weight. She needed something to end the lock before she crumpled..._Yes! Tricky and risky, but what else was there?_

She twisted under the crossed wood and blade to put her shoulder forcibly into his gut, knocking the wind out of him and forcing him back a few feet.

Pressing her advantage, she sprung after him, putting all she had left into a flurry of blows he could only half block; she could tell he was weakening. Panting, she feinted with the katana, one-handed, then punched him in the chin. He staggered back again, and she had enough time to sheathe her sword and retrieve her hiraikotsu (it had rested cloes-by, ignored in the close-quarters fighting).

But those precious seconds nearly cost her the victory.

He spoke, and her resolve crumbled. Every word was another stone on her shoulders, another gallon of energy depleted.

He spoke of their love. Of their past. Of his hopes for their future. The children she'd so enthusiastically agreed to bear him in the past.

He spoke of his decision the way he had back in the hut—as the only option. His words were quiet, but so sincere...his face a perfect mirror of the sound.

He entreated her to see it his way—to let him go on, and turn around. To give up. To let him take care of this.

And there, his mistake was clear.

Amidst the turmoil their shriveling future and barely realized love inspired in her, she knew, oh she knew: her Miroku would never explain himself and then ask her to go back. Maybe when they first met, but now—now he knew her. He knew that if she agreed, she would fight alongside him or die getting there.

But whoever was controlling this illusion didn't know how Miroku had changed since they'd met—and Sango did.

She was swift, and did not stop to celebrate her victory.

It was enough to see the fake return to its original state: a dark purple paper crane, though her hiraikotsu had crushed it.

She promptly fainted, exhausted.

--

The wretched sound of branches ripped off of trees cut through the air.

Miroku winced. He was squatting behind a large-ish boulder, regrouping. Or, as Inuyasha would put it, figuring out what the hell was going on. Chancing a glance around his shelter, he ducked back quickly as another shuriken struck the stone where he just was. He let out a few choice not-Buddhist-monk curses, and scrambled for new shelter before the hiraikotsu followed.

He knew Sango had been very upset with him for accepting Naraku's proposition. He knew she had a temper, and could get violent. He knew she was capable of following him without him noticing.

But despite all this, he couldn't believe the logical conclusion—that she had followed him and intended to fight him rather than let him fight Naraku.

A nano-second of a whistling noise was just enough to make him dive to the dirt—now mud. The hiraikotsu whirled a few inches above his head. His pony-tail might have been cut; he wasn't sure.

As much as he didn't want to believe that his comrade and fiancé was fighting him, he'd better start before she killed him.

His face pinched at the thought; but again, his thoughts were cut off by Sango's assault.

"What is wrong with you? Fight me!" she exclaimed as the hiraikotsu returned to her, with a few dark hairs on one tip.

He shuddered at her voice; she sounded desperate, in pain. Perhaps she was. To go to these lengths...

"AAARGH! Houshi-sama, you are the most infuriating man—!" she screamed, eyes wild, racing straight for him, swinging the hiraikotsu above her head like a batter winding up his arm.

He gulped. He had to fight her now, didn't he?

CRASH.

He dodged instead, and the hiraikotsu ate boulder. Becoming firmly lodged in the stone, Miroku took his opportunity—and with only a moment's hesitation, and a quick prayer for more power, slapped a sutra to the youkai-bone-smelted boomerang that crackled and clung for a few moments, before falling, spent, a spiderweb of cracks left in its wake.

Sango, who'd been surprised enough by the sutra to leave off trying to physically haul her weapon out of its granite niche, now stood still. Taking it in. Calculating her next move.

She didn't take long.

Leaping at him, she let fly a feint punch and real kick—he dodged the second barely in time, caught off-guard. Without thought, as he'd been trained to do, he struck at her with his staff.

And hit the concealed metal blade in her forearm-guard.

They strained a moment, and then she broke to sweep her leg along the ground, to knock his feet out from under him. It worked, but he rolled away and to his feet again before she could take advantage.

Hefting herself upon a boulder, she jumped from stone to stone, to launch herself at him from above. He brought up his staff and managed, through surprise and sheer force of will, to deflect her behind him, where she somehow avoided becoming flattened to a tree and start racing at him again.

This time he let her get close, thinking that his strength, as a man, would help him.

He was wrong.

Blocking each of her punches jarred his arms, lacing his right hand with fire, and severely shaking his footing. She was about equal in strength to him, and her speed was incredible—he'd watched her fight, but never really known.

Finally, he got a lucky strike through her barrage of kicks and punches and knees and elbows, sending her down. She rolled to her feet at once, of course, and made another pass.

Now the fighting spaced out. In close combat they were clearly even, and they didn't bother with it anymore. Instead, they came at each other and immediately broke away, and then again, and again. It was something like the way eagles fight; flying near each other, then dive-bombing, grappling, then breaking and swooping about each other again, thinking of some new tactic.

It was going somewhat evenly, with Sango faring better on some instances and Miroku

on others, until the monk got cocky and let himself be backed up too close to the original boulders.

In half a second of landing, Sango shrewdly flicked two shurikens his way—and he was too slow to dodge. How frustratingly weak of him.

She'd pinned him well, indeed.

Staring in growing confusion, panting, he watched as she slowly unsheathed her katana, and approached.

He watched as the gleaming blade rose, tilted, coming into the perfect position to sever his—_what?_

Surprise broke his psychological paralysis. "Sango, what the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Her eyes flicked to him for a moment, then back to her target. Her arm trembled as she spoke: "Ending the problem. Once and for all."

"What?!" He stared at her sword and body position. At himself. Back again.

_Noo...she can't mean..._

"Sango? No! It won't work!"

"Oh, yes it will. Naraku never thought of this; it's the ultimate solution! I'm saving you from a fate worse than death. I'm saving you! I'm saving us! Don't you...Don't you still want to have that family? You'll never have it otherwise! We'll never—do you want to do that to me? Really?"

She was almost hysterical by the end. It scared him.

"Sango, it's not like that, you don't understand—" he protested weakly. What was wrong with her?

"No, Miroku. It's you who doesn't understand."

The uncharacteristic condescending tone in her voice surprised him into silence.

"You see, Inuyasha and Kagome came back after you left on this suicidal mission. They'd talked with Jinenji, and he didn't know any herbal cures—but he did know one sure-fire other way to cure you—"

A rustle in the branches of a tree behind her. Without thought, and only a slight pause in conversation, she threw a shuriken.

"As I was saying, Jinenji, being the kind-hearted hanyou that he is, only thought of it by accident, and only said it out loud because he was thinking out loud—"

A dead songbird fell out of the tree, sliced into two wet halves that splatted in the mud below.

"—but Inuyasha and Kagome heard. Inuyasha was all for it, you know. He was actually somewhat annoyed he didn't think of it first."

Miroku finally wrenched his gaze away from the grisly muddy mess of blood and feathers to look back at Sango. At least, what looked like Sango.

He was having a harder and harder time believing she was Sango, though. She just...acted so wrong! So unlike her!

Her soft laughter drew his attention back to her words. It was the same laugh; a little quiet with shyness, but genuine and lovely all the same.

_Maybe this is how Inuyasha felt when Kikyou started attacking him?_ he wondered with dread. _It would explain his...confused feelings on the issue. Because she's the same and _

_yet she's not. And I can't help but wonder if it's just me that was wrong all along to think she wasn't like this to begin with..._

"...they'll be along soon enough, and Kagome with all necessary healing equipment. Aren't you happy?"

The brightness in her gaze twisted his stomach into too many knots to count.

"No, I can't say that I am." As he spoke, he twiddled with an idea, and his robes.

"Oh, don't be that way. I elected to do it, as we weren't sure if Tessaiga would really understand, you know? But don't worry; I sharpened my katana last night, just for this. The cut will be clean, and heal quickly."

Finally, a glimmer of regret passed over her face. "I'm sorry it has to be this way; you know that, don't you?"

He raised an eyebrow, and reacting on instinct, said: "I have my reservations."

"Houshi-sama! How can you say that to me! You know me! I would never, ever—"

Her hurt seemed genuine. But still, not quite hers. Sango wouldn't...react like that. She would never melt into such a long list of hysterical entreaties, as most women would. It was yet another facet of her that he loved: the strength of her restraint. This was...not her.

So. What now?

Well, if it wasn't his companion, and it was threatening to lop off his left arm, it was his enemy. And he needed to win. This could be...practice for tomorrow.

But even as he tried to impose the shift in his head, her eyes fought against his logic. And his limbs were heavy at the thought of bruising that body and face.

"You're right; I'm sorry...go ahead..." he muttered, just to end her diatribe.

And then he really remembered...what it was she was going to do. And just what would happen if she succeeded.

"Oh, I'm so glad you saw reason. Just wait Houshi-sama, you'll look back on this day with gratitude," she assured him, smiling, raising the katana.

"No! Wait! I forgot, this won't work—" he blurted, tugging against the shuriken, eyes wild.

If she succeeded, the kazanna would take the hole left by his severed arm—but be huge, and suck her in before he could fasten the gauntlet and prayer beads. She would die!

In the moment the blade fell, Miroku forgot his doubts and suspicions of his attacker's identity.

He only thought of his love, sure to die moments later, at his hand—rather, stump...

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**A/N:** To make up for the long wait, an extra long chapter. (In fact, this is the longest 'chapter' I've ever written:25 pages, single spaced!) I thought of summarizing some of the slower scenes, but then I decided that they made for tension builders. (Theoretically). What else...this story is almost over. The climax is in the next chapter. Which will probably also be a whopper, now that I think about it...see, I could split them up, but I need the structure of one day per chapter or else I'll really overdo it with the unnecessary details. As it is I'm probably pushing the limits for a supposed action fic. Drama fic. Whatever. As you can tell, I'm not all that verbose currently...editing 25 pages all at once does that to you...and if I did miss anything, please tell me. I'll fix ASAP. So...what else? Thanks for reading.

Hope you liked it.


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